


Taarsidath-an halsaam

by Almost_Star_Struck



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), Belly Dancing, Body Dysphoria, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Clothing Kink, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cultural Differences, Established Relationship, Fantasy Racism, Fluff, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Heavy BDSM, M/M, Necromancy, Public Masturbation, Scent Marking, Seduction, Sex Magic, Sharing Clothes, The Bog Unicorn, Undead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-04-12 15:36:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 29,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4484963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Almost_Star_Struck/pseuds/Almost_Star_Struck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of prompts and mini-fills from Tumblr of various subject matter and lengths. All unbetaed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Funeral

**Author's Note:**

> Original Prompt:  
> For the Adoribull Sunday: how about Bull asking about Tevene traditions for the first time?

It wasn’t often that he found Dorian kneeling in the Chantry. The mage avoided it so often that most had pegged him non-Andrastian. But today when he checked the library, he only found the tranquil milling among the shelves. 

“He’s in the Chantry,” Solas had told him as the Bull descended the staircase, looking confused. He paused and glanced back at the elf who had not once looked up from his favored research table. “It’s a holiday apparently.”

Bull raised an eyebrow. “Did he say what holiday?” Solas shook his head and the Qunari sighed. Time to shock the Sisters and Mothers he supposed. 

Indeed, seeing the Iron Bull walk straight to the small church was something that had quite a few heads turning across the training yard. He gave a wide grin to Mother Giselle who kept her face passive even if he could see her pupils widen significantly. 

He had to hunch over to get through the door and once inside, he saw Dorian kneeling before Andraste, several of the other more religious members of the Inquisition in similar prayer. 

When the door closed behind him, a few people glanced up before turning back to the statue. Dorian’s eyes were closed and he was murmuring under his breath, the flickering candlelight casting a light glow over his face. 

Deciding not to interrupt, Bull leaned against the opposite wall, observing as Dorian stood and took some paper tied with string. He approached the fire that Andraste held and lit the edge. Once it caught fire, he placed it into a ceramic bowl and let it turn to a crumpled black ball. 

The men and women around continued to pray, leaving Dorian to his ceremony as the mage picked up the bowl and turned. He blinked, seeing Bull and heaved a small sigh, gesturing for them both to leave. 

Once the Chantry door had closed behind them, Dorian raised an eyebrow. “What were you doing in there?”

“Could say the same thing,” Bull said with a chuckle. “Solas said it’s a holiday?”

Dorian nodded and frowned, “Funalis…although it is known differently here,” he said as he started toward the main gate. “I imagine the whole camp will eventually make their dues at some point. Honor their dead.”

That made Bull frown and they both stopped to wait for the guards to raise the large gate for them to pass. The metal whined as it was cranked up just enough to allow the Qunari passage without him scrapping his horns on the bottom. 

Dorian marched through, his eyes on the cliffside, his hand covering the top of the bowl to keep the ashes from blowing in the wind. Bull followed as the mage stepped out onto the bridge and turned, overlooking the dip of the valley gorge that protected the castle. His brow was tight and he looked exhausted as he stared out, seeing something that the Bull could not. The Qunari sidled up to him and placed a comforting hand on the small of his back. Dorian glanced back at him and gave him a grateful smile. 

“This for Felix?” the Bull asked, glancing pointedly to the bowl. Dorian looked to the ash in his hands.

“Yes,” Dorian said after a time. His voice was a little weak and the Bull could see his lip wobble slightly. It had not even been a year since the letter came. Iron Bull remembered that night. They were not yet lovers but he and Adaar had comforted the mage as he cried and drank. He had told them both stories of his closest friend, the man who made him want to be better. 

Leaning down, he kissed Dorian’s brow, his hand moving to cup Dorian’s hip. “I don’t really know how you do this in Tevinter. Need any help?” 

He sighed and shook his head, smiling up at Bull. “I don’t need help…but the company is welcome.” He glanced back down at the bowl. “Normally this is done proper, but we don’t have dragon blood.” Dorian exhaled and dipped his fingers into the ash, curling them around the largest pieces. He let them float from his hand into the wind where they were picked up, swirling like black crow feathers into the air. 

“Dragon blood?” Bull asked as Dorian repeated the process. The mage nodded.

“Back home, you write everything you loved about the dead and all that you did not. You soak what you loved in dragon’s blood and suspend it in veilfire for the day before you take it into town and have it burned at the Chantry. Everyone goes and burns their love and sets it free over the rolling waves.” He watches the pieces go, his grey eyes sad as the pieces fall into the gorge one by one.

“And the things you hate?” Bull asked, squeezing the mage’s hip. 

Dorian chuckled and shook his head. “There was nothing I hated about Felix…but if there was, I would lock it away for the year. Next Funalis I would read it and reconsider.” He let the last pieces go and he knelt, moving to sit on the edge. Bull took his time to sit, careful of his bad knee as they both dangled their feet over the side. 

“Hate is something you can reconsider and let go of over time. Especially since the dead can do nothing to reverse it. Anything they did that brought that hate is in the past,” Dorian explained. “But love…love grows and overwhelms. Better to burn a piece of it each year so it doesn’t take you in grief.” He looked at his ashy fingers and traced a Tevene letter on the worn wood. "Each year you pick at it until it doesn't hurt so much."

The Bull smiled and let his hand rest on the mage’s shoulder. “We don’t have anything like that in the Qun. Once someone’s dead, they’re dead. There’s no sense in mourning over what’s not there.” Dorian huffed and Bull shook his head, “I’m just saying that’s what we do…what I  _did_  under the Qun.” He reached over with his opposite hand and lifted Dorian’s chin, forcing the mage to look him in the eye. “I never knew Felix, but I know there aren’t too many people who you’d do this for.” 

Dorian nodded. “I miss him, Bull…I miss him so much.” He bit his lip and turned, burying his face into the Qunari’s shoulder. Bull smiled softly and stroked his neck and back. Little more was said after that and they remained on the bridge until the sun began to set and the guards yelled at them for staying out in the cold wind for so long. 

Dorian shivered and stood. It was a rare day when the Vint didn’t complain about the weather. He looked back at Bull as the Qunari got to his feet. “Thank you…”

Smiling, the Bull kissed his cheek and took his hand. “Let’s crack into that Vint wine Cabot’s got. Warm you up.” The mage smiled and nodded, squeezing Bull’s hand as they ducked back under the gate.


	2. Hot and Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:  
> Adoribull Prompt Sunday - Tent cuddles

“Bull, it’s too hot,” Dorian shoved at his lover’s chest, not even bothering to open his eyes. The Qunari sighed, taking his hands away from the other man’s side reluctantly.

“So you don’t want me to give you head?” he teased, planting a messy kiss on the back of Dorian’s neck that made the man squirm a bit. That got the mage’s attention and Dorian rolled over on top of the blanket. When they had settled down for the night, the mage had stripped to his smalls in his best attempt to alleviate the heat. Even then his dark skin shined with sweat. 

“Had we not spent the entire day in this insufferable desert, I would be more inclined to say yes,” Dorian heaved a sigh, running a hand through his hair which had distinctly less volume since they had entered the Forbidden Oasis a week ago. 

Bull smiled and said, “Yeah, hotter than Koslun’s balls out here.” He stared at Dorian, admiring the curve of his hip that jutted out just underneath the waistband of his silky underthings. With all their trips into the colder parts of the South, he rarely got to see Dorian like this on the road. “Got any cold magic to go with those fireballs you throw?” 

Raising an eyebrow, Dorian snorted. “Of course I do,” he huffed. “Any Altus worth their birthright can do more than one school of elemental magic.” 

Bull smirked as Dorian wrote a symbol in the air with a pointedly showy flourish. Their eyes met and and Dorian began to trace lines of ice into the blanket. The fabric stiffened with the cold, pulling and bunching into little peaks as the moisture was pulled from the thread. However in the heat of the desert, the ice melted quickly, leaving a slightly damp patch in the sheet. Bull purred and glanced back to the mage. Dorian raised an eyebrow, “You want me to chill the tent?” 

The Qunari shrugged, closing his eye and moving as if to roll away from the mage. “I’d like to get my hands on you, but you’re too hot, so-” he trailed off, knowing without seeing that Dorian was rolling his eyes at him. Bull grinned, opening his eye again as his lover wrote a new glyph, a significantly larger one, on the ceiling of their shared tent. 

Suddenly the air around them chilled and small snowflakes began to float down. One caught Dorian on the nose and the mage’s eyes narrowed, “I might have put too much into that…” After another moment, he shivered and then swore in Tevene. He moved to put his clothes back on, but Bull grabbed him around the waist and yanked him back into his warm chest. 

“Better?” Bull said, winking as he tangled their legs together. Dorian stared up at him and reached for the sheet, pulling it over them both.

“You’d  _better_  keep me warm.”


	3. Boyfriend Clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:  
> Adoribull Prompt Sunday! Dorian wearing Bull's huge Halamshiral shirt, and Bull being really into it?

It was still early, but once the sun started to peak over the mountains, he found it was impossible to sleep. The light was just too bright against the snow that glittered off the peaks and the thin curtains offered  _no_  protection for his eyes. Reluctantly, Dorian lifted himself out of the too soft Orlesian bed and stood. He regretted the action in an instant, swearing under his breath as the cold tiles chilled his toes. He quickly turned to see if he had woken his bedmate, but the Bull was still planted face down on the mattress, his horns drawing small gouges in the woodwork of the headboard. 

Smiling fondly at the sleeping man, Dorian shivered and reached to wrap the sheets around him. Only they were caught under nearly 350 lbs of Qunari. He swore again  _(quietly)_ and grabbed the jacket hanging off the nightstand, a victim of their eagerness the night before. He wrapped it around himself and frowned at the way it left his legs bare even with the obscene amount of fabric. A light breeze curled through the window and he quickly buttoned up the toggles to his neck.

Dorian shuffled to the barren fire place, ignoring the pile of wood placed next to it in favor of lighting it with magic. He exhaled a small ghostly puff of breath and rubbed his palms together as the fire grew, encourage with small bursts of magical energy.

“You’re up early.”

Dorian looked over his shoulder, seeing Bull had rolled up to sit against the headboard, the sheets draped loosely around his waist. “Everything ok, big guy?”

The mage sighed and drew the glyphs for permanence and strength to keep the flames going. “The Orlesians should invest in black curtains. I find them far more effective at keeping that pesky morning glow out.” 

Standing, he turned back toward the bed, still rubbing his hands together as he shivered violently. Bull’s eyes widened and Doian knew he must make quite the sight, his hair sleep-tousled, mustache fuzzy and unkempt, all the while draped in a hideous over-sized jacket. 

Dorian yawned, stretching his arms over his head, raising the hemline a few inches. When he opened his eyes, he saw Bull was a bit flushed and that there was now a distinctive bump tenting the sheets.

Bull gave a sultry grin and said, “You know, that thing looks a  _lot_ better on you.” He licked his lips and added, “You wearing anything else under that?”

Dorian shook his head and the Bull purred.  _“Vashedan…”_

Grinning, the mage walked over to the bed, each sway of his hips long and drawn out. “You know, if you like seeing me in your shirts, you should endeavor to own more than one.” Bull’s gaze seemed glued to his legs for a time before it rose to meet Dorian’s eyes. 

“Maybe I’ll look into it. Madame de Fer wants to see me in purple,” Bull reached out, smoothing the fabric over Dorian’s shoulders.  

“Mmmm, she’s got great taste. You would look stunning in purple,” Dorian agreed, plucking at the hem that skirted his thighs. “Think it would look just as good on me?”

Bull laughed and tugged Dorian down over his lap, “Pretty sure you could make anything look good, Kadan.”


	4. Perfect is Boring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:  
> Thick!Dorian

Southern food was going to be the death of him. What it lacked in spice and zest, it made up for in completely ridiculous amounts of butter, fat, and sugar. 

And the  _beer_. Don’t even get him started on the ales and lagers. So thick and rich like an over-embroidered Orlesian silk purse. 

He could not get enough of it. 

It really shouldn’t have been a surprise a year down the line when found the buckles of his belts digging into his skin. He loosened them at first, swearing to go on a stricter diet. A month later and he had to take it down a second notch and then a third. 

“New robes?” Adaar asked him, looking up from her paperwork. “Did your spares get ripped? Or just too much darkspawn blood?” She winced. “Impossible to get out of anything.”

Shaking his head Dorian sighed, crossing one leg over the other. “No, I’ve gained a bit of weight. They no longer…fit.” He knew his face was red. He knew he must look an utter fool to her. No one else had to requisition new clothes because they had gotten  _fat._ He held his breath, waiting for the eventual laughter or disbelieving snort.

Adaar just stared at him for a moment before nodding. “Ok, we’ll bring the tailor in tomorrow.” She looked back to the scattering of paper on her desk. “Let me know if you need anything else and we’ll add it to the account.” He swallowed and nodded, standing quickly and excusing himself.

It was almost sundown so he headed to the tavern. When he entered he could see that Bull and his men were already getting rowdy with Sera and Varric over a game of Dragon’s Nail. Sera tossed her cards into the air as Skinner pulled the pot toward herself with a victorious grin.

Hearing him even through the noise of the crowd, Bull turned and caught his eye. “Hey big guy, pull up a chair.” He nodded to Cabot who sent a serving girl over with some more ale as soon as Dorian settled next to him. “Dunno if the Boss told you but we’re going into the field tomorrow.” He rolled his eye, “Collecting more of those shard things.” 

“Ah, Adaar will be taking Solas then I imagine?” Dorian asked as the Bull pushed a beer into his hands. He stared down into the froth and frowned, resisting the urge to drink it. Any happiness gleaned from the alcohol would dissolve as soon as he tried to buckle his belts.

Stretching out in his chair, the Qunari nodded. “Yeah. We should only be gone for a week though,” Bull said, “Still, gonna miss you.” He clinked their glasses together and took a drink, looking at Dorian expectantly. The mage looked over his lover’s muscular physique and pointedly pushed the tankard away.

“Not tonight,” he excused. Bull raised an eyebrow, but didn’t try and pressure him. Instead he picked up Dorian’s drink and downed it as well. 

Dorian’s eyes followed the column of his throat down to his large pectorals and the belly in front. Bull was big all over. His extra weight wasn’t a point of shame but of pride. He was almost envious. Bull could eat and drink and much as he wanted and never feel uncomfortable in his own skin.

“You seem a bit quiet, Kadan. Something wrong?” the Qunari asked, his large hand coming up to rest on Dorian’s shoulder. Dorian shook his head, pulling his eyes away from the Bull’s chest and glanced to the table.

“I’m tired is all.” Dorian waved it off. Sera was cackling into her cards now, but if Krem and Skinner’s trading glances were anything to go by, there was no way the blonde elf was taking home any coin.

The Bull nodded. “Want to head up to bed?” he asked, moving to stand. Dorian placed his hand on Bull’s knee and stood himself.

“No, don’t stop your game for me,” Dorian said with a slightly forced smile, “You enjoy your drinks.” He leaned down and kissed Iron Bull between his horns. The Bull gave him a skeptical look that Dorian pointedly ignored as he headed up to their shared room.

Closing the door behind him, he heaved a heavy sigh and knelt to untie his boots. As he bent over, he heard a distinctive pop and he gasped, seeing the button of his fly go soaring into the opposite wall.  _“Kaffas!”_  he growled, ripping off both boots and shoving them against the wall. He peeled out of his too tight pants, trying desperately not to notice the way his belly hung over the hem.

His robes he undid last, tossing them carelessly onto the chair of his vanity. Huffing, he glared at the fabric as if he could blame it for his plight, only to catch sight of the mirror. He stared at himself, his lip wobbling a bit as he took in the noticeable paunch, his thick thighs and the extra flab around each arm. He even had stretch marks.

_“Dorian, don’t eat that!” his mother chided as she plucked the piece of oily bread from his hands._

_“But I’m hungry,” he whined, wincing as she gave his bottom a small smack._

_“You eat that and you’ll get **fat.**  Do you want to get  **fat?** ” she hissed, handing the bread roll off to a servant. When the eight year old sniffled she sighed and knelt to his height, taking his hands into hers. “Darling, I know it’s hard sometimes, but you need to remember to put on your best face to the world. This is what everyone sees so we must make it perfect.” _

_She smiled and looked him dead in the eye. “Everything else can be hidden away.”_

“Kadan?”

Dorian was pulled from his thoughts as Bull wrapped his bulky arms around his shoulders, hugging him from behind. “Shit…” the Qunari said, wiping the tears from Dorian’s cheeks. When had he started crying? “Knew something was up. Come on, let’s get on the bed.” He pulled Dorian against him and laid them both down on the silky sheets.

“So…why the tears?” Bull asked after a few moments, tracing his finger over Dorian’s jawline.

Dorian shook his head, avoiding looking him in the eye. “It’s nothing important…just my own vanity,” he muttered. He felt Bull shift against him and he sighed, “Let’s just go to bed.”

He tried to grab the sheet to cover himself, but Bull caught his hand and brought it up to his lips. Bull kissed over each finger reverently and Dorian felt his chest clench. “How about you tell me what’s eating at you first?” he said, rubbing his thumb into the center of Dorian’s palm.

The wording made Dorian wince, something that did not go unnoticed by the Bull. “Dorian…”

“I’m fat,” the mage snapped. “I hate that I’m as big as a druffalo and that I can’t fit into my own bloody clothes.” He exhaled, clenching his fists as he attempted to roll away from Bull. The Qunari was having none of that though and pulled him back to face him.

“You’ve gained weight. You’re not fat.” He smiled softly. “And so what if you were? You’re still the most gorgeous man in Skyhold.”

Dorian bit his lip and shook his head, “How can you find me attractive like this?”

Bull rolled his eye and pointedly jiggled his own substantial belly fat. “And do you find this unattractive? Cuz you seem to love using it as a pillow whenever you can.”

Rolling his eyes, Dorian muttered, “Bull, you’re a warrior. You’re allowed, nearly expected to be meaty.”

“You still have no problem cutting down demons with your stave. You’re fit as hell.” Bull kissed his cheek. “Dorian, you’re allowed to be chubby or thin or whatever makes you happy.” The Qunari kissed him and cupped his hip, his fingers playing with the waistband of his smalls.

The mage sighed and shook his head, staring at the ceiling. He just couldn’t meet Bull’s gaze at the moment. “It’s just…in Tevinter, you have to be perfect. Mind and body. But body…that’s what everyone sees. Being fat in Tevinter is a sign of someone letting themselves go. It’s a sign of laziness or sloppy living. They  _failed_ to keep themselves in check.”

“Failed to not enjoy their food?” Bull frowned and squeezed his hand. “Dorian, we’re not in Tevinter. If you want to eat, eat as much as you like. Just don’t make yourself sick. No one is going to think any differently if you gain some weight. I’d rather go back to seeing you enjoy your beer and bread.” Dorian shook his head stubbornly and that was apparently the wrong thing to do.

The Bull rolled up to sit and then straddled Dorian, keeping most of his weight off the mage. “Kadan, I know you feel bad right now. You feel like you’ve failed, but you’re  _not_  a failure. You’ve never been one.” He began to kiss over Dorian’s chest, careful of his large horns.

“You’re intelligent and clever,” he whispered as he moved lower, “Powerful and dangerous.” Bull felt Dorian shiver underneath his mouth. “Caring and kind-hearted.” He lifted up to look Dorian square in the eye, “And sexy as fuck to boot.” 

He nipped the little belly and gripped Dorian’s hips, making the smaller man squirm. Bull looked at him as he buried his face in Dorian’s clothed dick, mouthing over the silky smalls. “Kadan, it’s ok to not be perfect. What matters is you being happy and not pitting yourself against anyone’s standards but the ones you make for yourself.” He felt Dorian buck a bit and he grinned, tugging down the fabric.

The mage leaned up on his elbows, looking down at Bull. “I don’t think I can just…be ok with this.” He looked like he wanted to bolt, but his face was flushed and he hadn’t said the watchword.

“You don’t need to be ok right now. But we’ll get there.” Bull took his hand. “Now…can I suck you off, handsome?” He grinned and said, “I think you could use a some pampering tonight before I go. Can you do that for me?”

Dorian sighed, but nodded and he allowed Bull to drag his smalls down his legs. “Perfect enough for me,” Bull purred, licking his lips. He waggled his eyebrows at Dorian before going down with an eager groan. 


	5. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:  
> "Why didn't you tell me?"

It had been three days since the argument and yet Dorian was still holing himself up in his library. The Bull hadn’t gone looking for him. He’d probably be met with a snide remark and a dismissive insult if not a book to the head. He’d let the other man steam until he was ready to talk or just skip to the makeup sex. 

“Chief, what’s going on with you and the Altus?” Krem and Skinner sidled up to the larger man at the bar.

Pulling out her smallest blade, Skinner said, “Did the Shem hurt you?” Bull shook his head and placed his hand over hers, forcing her to lower her weapon.

“We disagreed and he’s pissed.” He lifted his tankard and took a long drink. “He’ll either come around or he won’t.” He stared into the murky liquid and exhaled, feeling Krem’s hand touch his wrist.

“How about we train a bit then? Get some of that frustration out in the yard.” Krem stood and pushed his ale away. Skinner stood at well and they both waited behind the Bull expectantly. 

Sighing, he stood and stepped away from the counter. “Alright, let’s get to work.”

* * *

Dorian watched the Chargers train in the yard with a curled lip. Bull was slamming into Krem as the Vint defended with a shield. Typical brutish behavior. 

Turning away, he lifted the pile of books from his favored armchair and sat down, rubbing his temples. He could already feel a headache forming as the clang of metal echoed around the rock walls of the castle. 

He leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling. 

_“You’ve let me do it for weeks now!” Dorian said, glaring at the Qunari as Bull faced away from him, his erection having died the moment he saw the other man’s shudder. He stood and walked over, hugging Bull from behind, hooking his head over one thick shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me that you’ve been scared the whole time?” he asked, his voice growing softer. “You trust me to tell you when something’s wrong…”_

_The Bull shrugged, “It wasn’t bad…until we went to Crestwood.” He refused to turn his head, his hands hanging limp in his lap._

_“Remind you of Seheron?”  
_

_Bull visibly stiffened and Dorian nodded. “Ok…ok…so what about binding you with magic made you think of that?” He let his fingers trail over Bull’s sides. The Qunari had been hesitant but then entirely enthusiastic when Dorian introduced magic into the bed. But when he bound Bull just a few moments ago, he had seen fear…and tears._

_He had never made another man cry during sex before. It shook him to his core._

_“Please Bull…I want to help.” Dorian tried to bring him around to kiss his cheek, but the Qunari stubbornly turned away. He stood and grabbed his clothes, pulling them on with military stoicism. Dorian frowned and furrowed his brow. “How am I supposed to fix things if we never talk!? You always listen to me and the one time I want to listen to you, you just…clam up like a bloody coward!”  
_

_He stood and marched over to the Bull. “You don’t trust me…that’s the reason, right?” he asked, poking the other man hard in the chest. “Sneaky Vint who’d hurt you.” Even as he spoke, he felt his chest aching. He had thought they were better than this._

_“I need some air,” was all Bull offered before he left, the door swinging closed behind him.  
_

* * *

He was drawn from his thoughts by the familiar click of brace on stone tile. He straightened and grabbed a book, pretending to be involved when the Iron Bull crossed the landing. 

“Your book’s upside down, Kadan.”

Dorian’s cheeks flushed and he quickly righted it. “I was practicing a new spell.”

“One that you gotta read upside down for?”

Dorian cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t expect a brute like you to understand complex magic.” He kept his eyes on the shadow that the other man cast on the floor and wall. “What can I do for you?”

Bull sighed. “We need to talk.”

“Now you want to talk,” Dorian said with a slight growl, realizing that was the wrong response when Bull turned his head away. The mage bit his lip and said, “Sorry…that was overly…aggressive.” He put the tome down and turned to face Bull. He looked worn down, sweaty from his training, but lacking the passion and joy that the man normally got from physical activity. 

He wanted nothing more than to embrace him chest to chest and kiss him until he smiled again. He’d give anything for that stupid lopsided grin of his.

Before the Bull could open his mouth, Dorian stood. “I….I should be apologizing for more than just that.” He took a nervous step closer. “I was insensitive and you…you didn’t need that from me of all people.” He did his best to meet Bull’s eyes but he stopped short at his collarbone.

“It’s just, you’ve always been there for me. You’ve helped me so much and I have never been able to do that for you. And when you were…when I hurt you, I just wanted to try and make it better. You wouldn’t let me.” His throat tightened and he nearly choked out the words. “It hurts me that you won’t tell me what happened and what…what I can do to make it better.”

He fell silent and saw Bull’s chest expand as he heaved a large sigh. The Qunari stepped forward, arms wrapping around Dorian until they were pulled together.

“I don’t ever want to associate that period in my life with you, Kadan. That night I did and I was ashamed. You’re not the mages I fought in Seheron. You’re too damn good for that.” He brushed a tear from Dorian’s face. 

Hiccuping a bit, Dorian frowned. “But…why won’t you tell me.”

Bull smiled softly and their eyes met for the first time in days. Dorian felt his breath hitch as the Qunari murmured,  “You don’t need any more nightmares. I’d rather just put it behind us both.” He kissed Dorian’s crown and held the mage close.

Dorian exhaled and wiggled his arms free, cupping the sides of Bull’s face. “We’re in Skyhold. Seheron can’t reach us here. I won’t let it.” 

Smiling, Bull drew him into a kiss. “My hero.”


	6. Aesthetics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:  
> Beauty

He watched Dorian apply his makeup every day. The man was naturally stunning with high cheek bones and pouty lips that he loved to sink his teeth into. The makeup enhanced what was there, making his eyes as bright as silverite instead of their natural soft gray. They brought a bit more color to his bronze cheeks, carving out the bone in a striking contour. 

And the shimmer powder made him gleam like he was made of stardust. 

In Tevinter, he supposed that all of this was a good defensive mask, but they weren’t in Tevinter and no one in Skyhold would care if Dorian forgot to line his eyes for a day.

“Why not go natural? Less work in the morning.” Bull asked one morning as Dorian dusted the power over his brow bone. 

Dorian snorted and rolled his eyes. “That’s like asking you to go without your vitaar.”

“Your kohl doesn’t block blades,” Bull reminded with a smirk. Dorian huffed.

“I like the way this makes me look.” He lifted his chin, creating a distinct profile in the mirror. “This is the way I want to see myself and the way I want others to see me,” Dorian said as he closed his small jar of powder, setting it on the table. “Why? Do you think I do this for you?” he asked, raising one elegant eyebrow.

“Nah, you did this long before we became a thing. That and you’re a rebel. You don’t do  _anything_  you don’t want to.” He chuckled and rolled over onto his stomach, stretching out on the sheets. It had been a very lazy morning for them both. 

“I am a rebel. A  _handsome_  rebel,” Dorian sat down on the bed next to him and leaned down to kiss Bull’s nose. 

The Qunari smiled and stared up at Dorian. “You are beautiful.” He reached up and cupped Dorian’s jawline, stroking over the freshly shaven skin. Dorian preened a bit and took Bull’s hand, kissing into the center of his large palm.

“And you like pretty things, Amatus.” He said with a wink.

“Didn’t use to,” Bull admitted. “Well…I wasn’t allowed to anyway.” He moved closer to kiss Dorian, but the mage was giving him a confused look that made him hesitate.

“Under the Qun?” Dorian asked, stroking the base of Bull’s horns. Iron Bull nodded.

“In Par Vollen, Beauty is a pretty useless concept; something to be unlearned as soon as possible.” He closed his eyes, letting Dorian’s magically heated fingers tend to the itchiest part of his scalp.”I never unlearned it. I just pushed past my need for pretty things by concerning myself with what was useful or necessary.” He paused, trying to think of a better way to explain it. “If I did get myself a beautiful weapon, I’d say that it had a special enchantment or was a particularly good weight. That sort of thing.”

When he opened his eyes, he saw Dorian was looking away, his expression solemn. “You must think this is all rather foolish then…at least I imagine so.” He gestured back to his face. 

“I’m not under the Qun, Kadan. If it makes you happy then I like it.” He rolled up and sidled next to Dorian. “I don’t need things in my life to always have some secondary purpose. If I like it, I like it. If you like it, you like it.” He drew the mage into a kiss. “Ok?”

Dorian nodded and said, “But I am more than a pretty face, I hope you know.” 

Bull snorted. “You’d never let me forget it, Kadan.” He purred as he pulled Dorian into his lap, tickling the mage until he squawked. 


	7. Spoiled Vints

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt  
> That one intolerable habit?

“Dorian.”

“Hmmm?” the mage didn’t glance up from his mirror, hands steady as he lined his eyes. 

Bull huffed and stepped up behind the Vint. “What is  _this?_ ”

Dorian exhaled and pouted, lowering his stick of kohl as he swung around. The Bull was frowning and holding a massive pile of dirty clothes. Dorian placed his kohl back into its case and cleaned his fingers. “Ah,  _that._..I was going to get to  _that_  today actually.”

“Were you?” the Bull said accusingly as he dumped them on the end of the bed with a heavy  _thump_ , making Dorian wince. 

“Yes?” he said hesitantly as he looked over his dirty things.

All of Bull’s clothes were folded and smelling faintly of soap from the wash earlier in the day, a direct contrast to Dorian’s robes which were sweat and blood stained, grass smeared on the hem, and wrinkled within an inch of their life.

“I’m not doing it for you  _again_ ,” the Bull said in a firm voice, the same he used when he was leading his men. “You do your own damn clothes.” He crossed his arms over his chest and gave a pointed stare. Dorian sighed and stood. Years of having serving staff (well-paid albeit) tend to his basic needs had not prepared him for living life on the cheap. That and he hated the way the bleach stung his fingers and made his skin dry up. 

Piling all the clothes into his arms, he headed out the door that Bull had left wide open. As Dorian traversed the steps, he knew he was dropping things but he stubbornly charged on.

“Altus, you lost your pants,” Krem called, waving Dorian’s black silk smalls in the air like a flag. Dorian growled and grumbled under his breath as the few soldiers out laughed and teased. Bull stood on the top of the steps, just shaking his head. 

He absolutely _despised_ Laundry Day.


	8. Trauma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt: Sad Adoribull – Assassination attempt – After the rumors reach Dorian’s parents about his very serious relationship with a Qunari they decide “A dead son is better than a shamed one”. Justjaspers tragedy prompt.

It had been a month since the attack and Dorian still insisted on checking behind every door. Bull never mocked him. Instead he held his hand as they made sure no one was peeking out behind the walls of their room, locking the doors and closing the window. 

They had started sleeping in Dorian’s room which was more secure, further from the walls and required sneaking past several guards or scaling the tower to get to. It was murder on Bull’s knee, but between that or Dorian crying out in fear at every set of footsteps that passed by? He could take it.

“Here,” he handed Dorian some tea as the Vint leaned against the headboard, a book propped on his lap. He absently scratched at his collarbone, just under the large angry red slash that had barely missed his throat. They had only recently taken the stitches out. Something about the enchantment of the blade that kept magic from healing it. 

“Thank you, Amatus.” Dorian took the cup and blew across the surface with a magically chilled breath, cooling it to the perfect temperature. He drank slowly as Bull laid down next to him, placing one broad hand on his thigh, stroking up and down. 

There was a knock on the door and Dorian went stiff as a rod. Bull squeezed his leg and stood. “I’ve got it.” He walked to the door, peeking through a subtle crack in the wood. He opened it slowly and Leliana stepped inside. Bull closed the door behind her and their resident Spymaster looked over the Vint who still looked like he was ready to bolt. 

“Dorian, I’m pleased to inform you that we caught the woman responsible for the attempt on your life.” She gave an almost sadistic smile. “My interrogators are working as we speak.” 

The mage just sipped his tea, hands shaking a bit. Bull had seen him fearlessly face down Red Templars, Giants, Dragons…but waking up to a slit throat and choking on his own blood had sent him into a spiral. It hurt him to see Dorian so shaken. “I already know why she did it. She was hired by my father.” He swallowed thickly and put the empty cup down on the nightstand. “And she won’t be the last.” He paused, “They’ll keep coming…until I’m dead and no longer capable of shaming my House.”

Leliana sighed, looking thoroughly bored, “That is true. They will only stop if you are dead. So, let’s kill you.” Bull understood, but it was clear Dorian hadn’t. He grabbed his staff next to the bed and put it between himself and her, ready to set their Spymaster on fire.

“She means fake your death, Kadan…if they think you’re dead, they’ll stop.” He walked over and cupped Dorian’s cheek, gently pushing the stave back down. Dorian looked at him with such fear and it made his heart ache. 

Leliana nodded in confirmation, all business this evening.

“If you agree, we’ll doctor up some papers, find a suitable body double and send it to Qarinus. I just need your consent. If we do this, you’ll need a new identity. Easily accomplished with Josie and I, but still.” She gave him an expectant look. “Really, it’s the simplest solution.”

Swallowing, Dorian hugged Bull, burying himself into the Qunari’s chest. “I don’t want to live in constant fear and I don’t want anyone hurt because of me.” His fingers stroked over the newest scar across Bull’s back where the assassin had stabbed him after he’d forced her off of Dorian. 

“Then it will be done. I’ll inform Josie and the Inquisitor immediately.” She clasped her hands behind her back and sauntered out. Bull watched her go before standing and locking the door behind her. 

“Kadan…is this ok?” he asked, stroking Dorian’s cheeks. The mage shuddered and nodded, biting his lower lip.

“They want me dead…so they’ll get what they want. They just can’t have me.” He looked up at Bull, “Or you…” He kissed Bull and the Qunari nodded, hugging Dorian to his chest.


	9. Seduction Techniques

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt: Dinner and a Show?

He always enjoyed watching Dorian dress up. There was something so methodical about the way he would preen in the mirror and assemble his outfit that the Bull admired. Tonight was a special night though and that meant a special outfit. 

“You have your nose pierced?” Bull asked as he watched Dorian hook in the gold septum ring. Dorian gave him a coy smile in the mirror, the gold glinting in the candlelight. 

“Yes. They were quite popular in the Imperium. It’s a piercing you can easily pretend you don’t have. It’s not as though my parents were going to be checking the inside of my nose.” He turned his head and looked himself over. “I think a little more powder.” He reached for the container and brushed some gold flakes over the bones of his cheeks before rubbing it down the strong column of his throat. It made his skin _glow._

Damn he was pretty. 

Bull resisted the urge to reach into the front of his pants and cup his chubbing cock. “So, what’s your plan? You and Boss have been pretty tight lipped.” 

Spinning around on his stool, Dorian leaned back against his vanity. In an open Antivan robe, nothing but the hiss of red silk and the sheen of makeup covering his copper skin, Dorian was an embodiment of pure desire. “Distract as much as possible, but you know how these things go.” He crossed one long leg over the other, both limbs toned and marked with a few scars from battle. Bull wanted to kneel down and part them again, bury his face where they met in the middle. 

Dorian’s grey eyes followed his gaze and the mage just chuckled. “You know you will have to keep away tonight. If they think I’m a taken man, it will be harder to seduce them.” 

“I think you could do it. You enjoy playing the honey pot.” Bull pointed out as Dorian stood, walking over to the bed where his clothes were laid. The Qunari reached up, running his knuckles over the back of Dorian’s thigh. 

Smirking, Dorian just leaned down, brushing a tender kiss between Bull’s horns. “Only sometimes. I like knowing I have a way out if they get too grabby.” He pulled back and let the robe drop to the floor. Bull took his time admiring the man’s body as Dorian began to dress, giving his ass just the lightest of smacks when he pulled on his smalls. 

When he was finished, Dorian looked like a prince. Black was the color of Tevinter, but tonight the Necromancer was decked in a dark navy blue that set beautifully against his skin and golden jewelry. Bull gave a whistle and said, “How would you seduce me?”

Dorian snorted, “I wouldn’t have to. You’re too much of a flirt to play hard to get, Amatus.” 

“Oh I can. I just choose not to. Why play games when I can just ask?” He leaned over and kissed Dorian’s side through the robes. “But I’m curious.” He pulled back and laid down, hands behind his head on the pillow. “Tell me what would you do to make me want you?”

Dorian raised an eyebrow. “Well I would need something to go on. I do have a method of attack you know.” He gave Bull a sultry look under his lashes. “If you were an Orlesian, I would wear an elaborate mask and play the ignorant foreigner. They love the idea of a toy, something new they can boast about to their friends over tea. Magic would be teased, but not overt.” He let a little lightning play over the pads of his fingers. 

“Play to everyone’s weaknesses with your strengths,” Bull said with a chuckle. Dorian grinned.

“Precisely…but until I met you, I had never talked to a Qunari, let alone wanted to seduce one. So I will need a bit more information…what gets a man under the Qun to throb with need?” he asked, licking his lips as he twirled the end of his waxed mustache. 

Shifting, Bull shrugged, “Sexuality is a physical need like all the others, but I’ve rarely seen it override anyone’s sensibilities.” He tapped his chin, “But I would say being a good dancer would probably help.”

“Qunari dance?” Dorian teased. Bull rolled his eye. 

“It’s a symbol, like the knotwork and the vitaar patterns. The way you dance, the way you _move_ has intention. You can spell desire with rope work on your arms and in the sway of your hips.” He stood and did a surprisingly graceful undulation of his large body, “You find a rhythm with someone who wants it and meet in the middle.”

“Reminds me of Tevinter belly dancing,” Dorian said, “Nothing like this stiff Ferelden marching they like to call a ‘waltz’.” He parodied the motions with an invisible partner, making Bull laugh. “But I think I understand. You put your desires on market and find someone who is willing to buy.” He leaned into Bull, “But what if I wanted a _particular_ person. How would I go about that?”

The Qunari chuckled, “It’s different for everyone. But generally food is something that will soften people. We ration under the Qun. No one goes hungry, but some with more ravenous appetites might not get as much as they would like.”

Dorian gave Bull a pointed look and the Qunari rolled his eye again, “Yes, I include myself among them. But in all seriousness, sharing food is intimate. Nothing says you care more about someone than if you give them something meant for you. You’re willing to skip a meal for them.” 

The mage frowned a bit in though, rubbing his chin. “I think I understand. I can’t say I ever thought about something like that, but I can see the logic.” He smiled. “Then maybe later…let’s have you play the stoic unimpressed patron. I’d like to see if I can break you.” 

* * *

The dinner had long since finished up, Adaar successful in stealing away support from the Venatori. Bull was exhausted. He had spent hours being poked and prodded by nobles who saw him as little more than a tamed savage. Not that the Boss fared much better. He’d seen the way her eye twitched after some bastard mentioned how “civilized” she was and that she smelled much better than they expected. 

He paused in front of his door, seeing a dim light flickering through the cracks. He frowned and readied his weapon just in case, pushing it open. 

Candles were lit and Bull could smell something sweet under the overpowering scent of smoke. 

He closed the door behind him and frowned, lowering his weapon and leaning the axe against the wall. “Dorian?” he said, glancing around. Suddenly he felt familiar hands dancing along the rise of his shoulders and he relaxed, turning around. He had to pause when he did though. Dorian was mostly naked, red paint striped over his bare chest and arms in a manner that strongly resembled vitaar. Some knots were clumsily woven over his left arm, symbols of loyalty and…fertility? He raised an eyebrow, “Kadan, I think whatever book you got this from had a few translation errors.” He plucked at the knots and Dorian gave an offended squawk, pulling back.

“That took almost half an hour!” he said, doing his best to straighten it. “And stop that, I’m trying to seduce you!”

Bull smiled, “I can see that. I thought when you said, ‘later’, you meant when we were back at Skyhold.” He stepped back and sat on the bed. It was all horribly incorrect, but at the same time, Dorian had taken the time to do it. “Ok…put on a show for me. Maybe I’ll buy you dinner afterwards,” he gave a one-eyed wink and Dorian snorted before schooling his face. 

At once, that seductive mask was back in place. He had watched Dorian flitter through the nobles. They couldn’t keep their eyes off of him. Men and women burned with their desire for him, making it easy for Adaar to cut through the political bullshit. There was no trace of Dorian’s less graceful characteristics when he was like this. Just a dark sensual creature who lived to tempt the hearts of men. 

Dorian started slow, his bare feet barely padding across the floor. The leggings outlined every muscle and tendon, displaying the stretch and pulse in an incredibly erotic fashion. It was definitely Tevinter in style, not nearly as organic or athletic as the dances of Par Vollen, but as Dorian rolled his hips, he could see the strain of each dramatic twist. Each move had firelight flickering over his body, displaying a sheen of sweat that gathered over Dorian’s abdomen, smudging the paint. 

But more than the movements, more than that amazing body, Bull found he could not stop staring at his eyes. Dorian never once let his line of sight fall. He spun and twirled and rolled up and down, but his gaze was always on Bull’s. The Qunari felt pinned by those kohl-lined eyes, much like when a young elven viddathari danced for him in Seheron. She had been waif-like but her movements spoke of strength. Dorian was no delicate waif and his body was as masculine as they came, but the look in his eyes was the same.

_‘I want you. No one but you’_

Swallowing thickly, Bull shifted as Dorian grew closer, enough so that the Qunari could smell the sweat mixed with the paint. Enough that he could feel the heat radiating off of the mage like he was molded from fire and lightning. 

Dorian stood over him and Bull craned his head back slightly to meet his gaze. He didn’t even know that Dorian had slid into his lap until the mage began to grind down on his dick, still staring him down like a cat would a wounded dove. 

Reaching up, he wrapped his arms around Dorian’s waist, pressing him down. Dorian was rock hard in his pants and burned against him like a furnace. The mage was panting now and his hips slowly stopped, both of them resting with only a few inches away from their chests.

“Damn…” Bull said, brushing the hair from Dorian’s sweaty brow. He found himself unable to say more than that. Dorian smiled softly and kissed him. The Bull pressed into it, holding Dorian close. 

“So…thoroughly seduced?” he asked as they pulled back. Iron Bull nodded and Dorian chuckled, kissing him a second time. “And I didn’t even need to break out the food.”

“You brought food?”

Dorian nodded and climbed off Bull, going to the desk where a plate of beignets were laid out. “I snuck these out of the kitchen. Had to write a mild fire glyph to keep them warm so I’m glad that it didn’t burn the place down.” He popped one into his mouth and chewed, moaning softly. “Mmm…ok, food and sex do make a nice combination.” He sauntered over to the bed and placed the tray next to them, holding one of the powered pastries to Bull’s lips. The Qunari bit into it and licked the sugar from Dorian’s fingers. 

“It’s not dinner, but it’ll do.” 


	10. Scent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt: Scent marking and reaction of other Qunari to Dorian smelling intensely of Bull

Adaar had been staring at him all day. 

It was subtle, but after years of playing the innocent trollop in Tevinter, he knew when someone was eyeing him from across the room. “I know it’s hard to look away, but really my lady, if you desire a moment of my time all you need do is ask.” He placed his hand on her shoulder. “What is on your mind, my friend?”

The Kossith wrinkled her nose a bit and then leaned into his neck, inhaling through her nose. Dorian raised an eyebrow. “You like the cologne? They make a similar perfume in the shop where-.” 

“You smell like Bull.”

He paused. “Excuse me?” 

Adaar nodded, her face still rather pensive. “I’ll have a talk with him about it.” 

“Talk with him about what?” Dorian grabbed her before she could leave the hall and head to the tavern. “Explain this to me first.” He gestured to himself. He and the Bull had only…recently started canoodling together, but he never stayed long. It was more of a booty-call than anything. Dorian would come and go as he pleased and they both got a nice romp. A win-win, really. 

Adaar rubbed the back of her head, having to reach around her curled ram-horns. “Look, Dorian…I’ve heard you guys talk out in the field. You’re looking for an outlet and Bull has been good about _obliging_ you. If you don’t want anything serious-”

Dorian blushed a bit. He knew it was no secret. The Bull had a big enough mouth and even then all it took was a few soldiers seeing him leaving the Qunari’s bed-chambers in the late eve to confirm any rumors. “Please…spare me the simpering. Just tell me what this is all about.”

Sighing, the Inquisitor said, “He _scent-marked_ you. It’s not a lot, but it’s there.” 

“Scent-marked me?” Dorian blinked in confusion. Adaar nodded.

“It’s something you don’t really do unless you…well unless you want to ward others off. Let them know you’re taken.” She coughed, her grey skin turning a few shades darker, “But you made it clear that this was just letting off some steam. You aren’t serious with him and he shouldn’t be marking you like you are. Especially without you knowing.” She gave him a sympathetic look. “I’ll talk to him.” 

Dorian frowned. “I don’t need you to fight my battles for me, Inquisitor. Though I do appreciate the offer.” He pulled away from her and straightened his robes. “I can handle it…thanks for telling me.” 

She nodded. “Ok, just…let me know if I need to keep you in separate parties.”

“Will do.” Dorian waved her off as he marched down the stairs toward the tavern. Surprisingly, the Bull was not there. Nor the training grounds. He furrowed his brow and glanced to the door that served as Bull’s quarters, heading up the stairs. He gave a knock and he heard Bull give a grunt.

“It’s open.”

Pushing the door, Dorian stepped inside, seeing the Bull hunched over an entirely too small writing desk. His back must be killing him. The Qunari put down his pen and turned. “Dorian?” he asked, looking confused. “What’s going on, big guy? Boss shipping us out again?”

The mage shook his head. Bull frowned. “Ok…what then?”

“Apparently you marked me.” Dorian gestured to his neck. “Something to do with scent?”

Bull’s eye widened and he stood, walking over to the mage. He leaned down and inhaled, searching for a scent. “ _Shit_ ….” he muttered, taking a step back. “Must have gotten a little too outta my head last night.” He had a look of deep shame on his face that made Dorian feel like he was the guilty party. “I’m sorry, Dorian. It won’t happen again.” 

“Adaar said that Qunari only mark people when they want others to stay away,” Dorian said as he watched the Bull sit back on the end of the bed. A bed he had enjoyed for several weeks now. “When they want exclusivity.” 

Bull nodded and did not meet his gaze, leaning back on his hands. “Yeah, but it’s something both parties should agree on. So…I fucked up.” 

His throat tightened as he stared at the other man. He knew Bull’s exploits. He knew how the Qunari had fucked his way through the entire kitchen staff and most of the soldiers. Yet, since they had started…this thing, he hadn’t seen traces of anyone else in Bull’s room. “Did you…want to be exclusive?” he asked slowly. 

Bull swallowed and shrugged. “It’s whatever you need it to be.”

That…that was what had made him curious enough to step over the threshold that first night. That no strings attached, giving and taking of pleasure. Bull was a very generous lover, always tending to Dorian’s needs first. 

“In Tevinter…two men entering an exclusive relationship implies…a level of seriousness bordering on foolish. Self-destructive.” He clasped his hands together in front of him. “After all…what can…love between two _men_ accomplish?” 

He heaved a sigh and stepped in front of the Qunari. “You are probably the best man I’ve ever met. A good friend and a good lover.” He reached over and took Bull’s hand, cupping the missing fingers. “I just…I never considered something serious between us.”

“It doesn’t have to be serious,” Bull said. “We can go on like before.”

“Just because I never considered it doesn’t mean it’s something I don’t want.” Dorian met his gaze. “We could…try it. See where it takes us.” He offered the older man a smile. “It’s not as if I haven’t already crossed the line of Tevinter shame.”

That brought a smile back to the Bull’s features and Dorian heaved a sigh. “So…this…scenting thing. What does it involve?”

“Rubbing. A  _lot_ of rubbing.” 

“Is it possible for me to scent you?” Dorian asked, “Or is it just a Qunari thing?” 

Bull chuckled. “If you rubbed yourself on me, Adaar would smell it…any Kossith would.”

Dorian chewed his lip thoughtfully. There weren’t a lot of those in Skyhold. “And they would know you’re mine?” 

Stiffening a bit, the Bull nodded. “Yeah…they’d know I’m yours,” he said slowly. The mage exhaled and wrapped his arms around the Bull’s neck, nuzzling into the skin of his throat. 

“Let’s get started then.”


	11. Majestic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt: Dorian makes friends with the bog unicorn. Bull is not exactly thrilled by this.

It was probably one of the most hideous creatures that anyone in Skyhold had ever laid eyes on.

Bull watched from the training grounds as Cullen’s men marched the carriage through the main gates. Adaar practically flew down the steps with excitement, taking the reigns from a disgusted Templar and leading the…thing over to Dennet who looked like he was about to run for the hills. 

“What’s all the excitement about?” Dorian asked, walking over to his lover, purposefully giving a gentle bump of the hips. “Must be quite big if you and even the Templars have stopped their shield banging, Amatus.” 

The Qunari felt his tongue go slack in his mouth as he watched. Eventually he just pointed over to Adaar, hoping that Dorian could figure the rest out for himself. Dorian raised an eyebrow and as he looked, his eyes widened. “Is that…” he walked over, weaving through the stunned merchants. Adaar was still talking to Dennet who still appeared concerned, but less like he was going to defect. Dorian ignored them both in favor of reaching out and touching the animal’s side with a gentle hand. 

The skin was thin and black, whatever colors used to exist underneath it had long since been eaten by decay. There was very little hair and no muscle over the stark bones. The eyes were empty sockets that turned to stare at Dorian curiously.

Adaar stopped speaking as she felt the horse pull and she turned around to Dorian. The mage let out a soft sigh and said, “It’s _completely_ stable. I don’t feel the Fade trying to pull it back.”

Adaar shook her head and grinned, “I know.” She fondly stroked the horse’s muzzle, careful of the rusted sword jutting through it. “This is one of ours. She died on the field almost a year ago. But look…she’s come back.” 

Dorian smiled, “Yes she has.” He touched over the bone where the ears of a normal horse might have been. He got a screeched whinny and he chuckled. “This is a very rare gift indeed.” 

“Would you like her?” Adaar asked, glancing around the yard where everyone was suddenly pretending as though they had something better to do. “I don’t think the others would…take to her.” 

Puffing his chest and crossing his arms over it, Dorian said, “Stick the dead horse with the Necromancer? Playing to stereotypes, now?” When Adaar gave him a sheepish expression, he dropped the act and took the reigns. “I’d love to. What was her name?” 

“Marian, but the men have a nickname.”

_“Oh?”_

“The Bog Unicorn,” Adaar said with a snort, gesturing to the sword. Dorian wrinkled his nose and patted the mare’s flank.

“Marian is lovely name…and you are quite the little rebel aren’t you? Coming back to life by yourself?” He chuckled as the mare nickered in response. “I’m assuming a Necromancer’s spell was left active on the field?”

“I can’t say for sure, but there were mages who died there. It’s possible.”

“Probable,” Dorian corrected as he led Marian back to the stables. “But it is definitely more than that. She had a will to be here.” He smiled fondly at the horse as Bull finally made his way over to them, his brace clanking with each step. He had a pensive look on his face as he sidled up to the Inquisitor.

“Boss…you think it’s a good idea keeping a dead horse?” He asked, watching as his lover went to get some feed for the animal with a rotted stomach. The mage seemed enraptured by this thing.

Adaar nodded. “If you’re worried about possession, don’t. She’s stable, not a temporary soul yanked from the Fade into a random body.” She glanced up at her fellow Kossith. “Bull? You look pale.”

Bull nodded and swallowed thickly, seeing the mare attempt to lick Dorian’s fingers clean of feed, the tongue mottled and purple. The mage just let her touch him as if she was a normal animal and not a complete freak of nature and magic. It made his stomach roll a bit and he said, “Just…this’s about as unnatural as it gets.”

The Inquisitor laughed, “Need I remind you that you’re dating our resident Necromancer?” She gestured to Dorian who was now brushing what little hair she had, cooing to her in gentle Tevene. 

Bull shook his head, unable to look away as the horse nipped Dorian’s hair as if trying to groom him. The mage made a face and scolded her, making the animal give a whiny nicker.  “No, don’t give me that. That was rude,” he told her. “Now, that’s better don’t you think? Let’s have Dennet look over your shoes.”

He shuddered and looked away. “What he does is different. It’s for battle and it’s temporary. Everyone he brings in gets sent back.” 

“She didn’t  _want_ to go back.”

Bull glanced up, seeing his lover still holding the reigns to the undead beast, one hand on his hip. “Bull, if she wanted to go to the Fade, she would have. A mage can drag a soul through the Veil, but they don’t want to be in our world. Once the mage releases the chains, they return.” He looked up to the mare with a fond expression. “It is rare that a soul would want to stay without a mage to tether her.” 

Adaar nodded. “A warhorse who died on the field of battle. She loved it so much she didn’t want to leave. She’s a warrior who wants to fight.” She nudged Bull’s elbow. “Look, you have something in common.”

The larger Qunari grimaced at the implication and he stared into the horse’s black empty eye sockets. He gave a visible shudder and said, “Just…don’t make me ride that thing.” 

Dorian huffed, “You won’t have to.” He patted Marian’s neck. “I’m claiming her as my mount.” 

“You know, riding a dead animal into battle will only make people think you’re one of the evil Magisters,” Bull pointed out. Dorian shrugged.

“They will think that of me regardless of what I do. I don’t care what they think.” He lifted his chin and Bull could tell he meant it. It made him proud to see him truly confident. A few months ago, Dorian would have been cowed by the thought of people’s expectations and rumors. 

Marian gave an impatient whiny and stamped her feet a bit. Dorian patted her again and smiled, “Ignore that one. He is an idiot of the highest calibur…” he turned away from them, heading over to Dennet. Bull almost didn’t catch the whispered, “And yet he is where I have chosen to lay my heart.”

Snorting, Adaar clapped Bull on the shoulder. “Well, I think that’s that. I’m heading in for a bit. Wicked Grace later?” 

Bull nodded. “Sure Boss. If I can drag Dorian from his new pet, we’ll be there.” 

“Good. Wouldn’t want to cause a  _Rift_  between you two.”

“Boss…that was bad even for me.”


	12. Snow Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:  
> Bull spends a day teaching Dorian how to build snowmen, make snowangels, etc. because Dorian had never seen snow before coming south

Dorian watched from the window as the tiny flakes drifted aimlessly through the night sky, “You know, I never knew how quiet snow was before coming here,” he murmured as Bull stoked the fire in the grate. “Rain is so loud, and wind howls…but this is almost… _gentle_.”

“What do you mean you never knew?” Bull asked, poking a log until it fell over, giving the flames more room to breathe. “You have ice magic.” He raised a brow and the mage briefly turned to scowl at him.

“Ice isn’t snow…and magic is rarely a quiet affair.” He turned back to the window, tracing a Tevene letter against the frosted glass. Bull stood moved behind him, grasping his shoulders with both hands. 

“Want to go out?”

“Are you mad? It’s  _freezing._ ”

“So? You’re curious aren’t you?”

Dorian huffed and glanced back at Bull. The Qunari smiled. “Come on. I’ll warm you up after.” He rubbed the mage’s shoulders suggestively, digging his thumbs under the joint and rolling them in tight circles.

The mage groaned, leaning a bit into the touch. “I’ll hold you to it.” 

* * *

Feeling fresh snow crunch beneath his boots for the first time had been a strange and disorienting experience when Iron Bull had landed in Orlais. He remembered he liked the feeling. Over time, a childish sense of destruction welled in him every time he saw a fresh field of snow, untouched by anyone else. 

Dorian was also equally enraptured it seemed. When he had come to the South, all the fresh snowfall had ceased. The snow was dirty, brown, and mostly ice by that point. 

The mage scooped up a handful, for once not complaining about the chill. “It’s heavier than I thought it would be given how soft it feels.” 

“Get enough feathers and you can bury a man under them,” Bull said as he made a small ball, rolling it until it was good and firm. Dorian was still distracted, staring at the melting snow in his palm.  _Oh…too easy._

Without another thought, he launched the snowball at the mage. However, rather than smashing into a flurry against the back of Dorian’s head, it crashed harmlessly against an invisible barrier. Bull blinked as Dorian smirked over his shoulder, entirely smug as he sent his own perfectly round magic molded snowball at the other man. It hit Bull’s chest and the Qunari growled, launching himself at Dorian and pinning him in the snow drift. 

“ _Kaffas!_  Get off!” Dorian squirmed under him. Bull just gave him an evil grin, pinning Dorian’s arms into the snow. 

“You cheated,” he breathed. Dorian snorted.

“You started it…” he muttered. “Attacking a man when his back is turned.” Bull chuckled and kissed a stray flake off of Dorian’s cheek. “I almost mistook you for a spy with honour until you pulled that stunt.”

Suddenly, the Qunari’s eye went dark, “Oh, I’ve never had any honour, Kadan.” He lifted a handful of snow, shoving it deep into Dorian’s trousers. 

Before Dorian could react, the Qunari leapt off him and ran across the empty courtyard, his big booming laughter echoing across the stonework. Dorian gasped from the cold and quickly melted it with magic, leaving a cold damp stain in the front of his pants. 

“You  _bastard!_ ” He ran after the other man, creating a wall of ice to block his path. Bull just turned, a new snowball already formed in his large hands. He launched it and it hit Dorian’s barrier. 

“You’re cheating again, Kadan.” 

“That’s not cheating,” Dorian said, waving it off. “ _This_ is cheating.” He struck out, freezing the snow under Bull’s feet. The Qunari wobbled and then fell, landing hard on his ass. Dorian smirked for a moment, only to immediately worry as he heard the Iron Bull groan. He ran over to him, melting the ice as he knelt at Bull’s side.  _Kaffas_ , he had forgotten about Bull’s leg. 

As Dorian fussed guiltily, Bull just rubbed his ass and said, “It’s a good thing I’ve got a lot of padding back there.” He smiled at Dorian who slowly relaxed and helped him to his feet. “But how about we do that with skates next time.” 

“Skates?” 

Bull laughed, “Yeah, something the Orlesians do when the lakes freeze over.” He cupped Dorian’s shoulder. “We’ll get some made and we can try it sometime. If the water isn’t solid enough, you can just freeze it.”

The look Dorian gave him could only be described as skeptical. “Skating on a frozen lake? Sounds like utter madness…”

“Coming from the man whose country that thinks blood orgies are  _fun_.”


	13. Blood Soaked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:  
> "I can't believe you just did that."

The entire team was staring at him. Dorian’s eyes were as round as saucers, fixed on his spent cock, cum and blood trailing down the shaft.

Even Adaar who he could tell was just as affected as he was still stood there shell shocked. 

“You just masturbated.” 

“Yeah.”

“On a dead dragon.”

Iron Bull shrugged guiltily. Varric just turned on his heel and walked away, not even saying anything. Adaar looked like she wanted to say something, but the words seemed caught in her throat. Eventually, she just shook her head, rubbing at her horns.

Shifting from one boot to the other, sinking slightly in the sand, Adaar muttered, “Ok…ummm, next time…maybe wait until we get back to camp. Or…I don’t know. Find a bush or something?” She gave him a pleading look. “For the record, you better clean that thing so we can use the scales.”

The mage visibly flinched. “Wait, you can’t mean we’re taking it back. After he just-” Dorian sputtered, gesturing at the still warm carcass. Adaar nodded.

“We spent _two weeks_  just tracking and the last three hours trying to kill this thing. We’re using it.” She nudged her foot in the sand and sighed, “We just…need to clean it off.” 

Dorian made a disgusted noise as she turned and headed back toward where Varric had wandered off. Bull just stared up at Dorian as the human stalked down to him, jabbing a finger hard into his chest. “ _Really?_  Really, Bull?”

“What? Jealous of a dead dragon?” he teased, wiping his fingers off on the side of the corpse, feeling over the scales. Fuck…she’d been so strong. Every time she flew overhead he had shivered. 

Dorian flushed and ran his hand back through his hair. “Just…why couldn’t you have waited? Been just a _bit_ more discreet.” He glared at Bull who just shrugged again. 

“Wanted to get the moment out. We can’t always steal away to take care of business.” He took Dorian’s chin in his hand, smearing blood on it. “Besides, you enjoyed watching.” He gave a purposeful glance to Dorian’s robes which hide most of his arousal. “You should have joined me here. Put on a real show with two  _Ataashi_.” 

The mage scowled. “Dragon fetish…” he muttered as Iron Bull kissed his cheek. “I am not stooping to your level of…depravity!” He pulled away and stomped back up the sand dune. 

“Aw, Dorian. Come on. Breathe a little fire for me, babe!” He got a fireball to the face that he barely managed to duck in time. It hit the sand behind him, melting it to glass. He gave a low whistle, feeling his blood hum with a hint of arousal. 

“Damn.”


	14. The True Evil is Ignorance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:  
> The first time Dorian outright defends his relationship with Bull when someone questions it.

The Orlesian tailor tsked as he took the stripped mage’s measurements. “I don’t know how you stand the smell, Messere Pavus. You and Madame de Fer must have to perfume every room to survive here.”

Dorian raised an eyebrow, but subtly took a few sniffs. Outside of the morning bread and fresh rain from the previous evening, he could only smell the tailor’s noxious cologne. “I’m afraid you get used to the smell of Ferelden dogs after the first week,” he said quietly.  

“No,” the man said, adjusting his mask. “The  _beasts_. Your Inquisitor and her brother. I had to fit them both earlier this morning and the stench they left behind was absolutely  _horrid_.”

Frowning, Dorian remained posed, feeling goosebumps trail over his exposed back. These robes had to be finished before the ball at the Winter Palace and he’d rather get this over with as quickly as possible. “They aren’t related.”

The tailor waved him off. “All oxmen look the same,” he said, seeing no irony in the way his own people wore masks of similar make and style.

Dorian bit his lip, chewing it as he held ram-rod still. “They don’t look the same and they don’t smell,” he said in a firm voice. “I work with them. I would know.” The tailor paused, staring at him with the measuring tape. 

“Oh? Very acquainted with the oxmen then?” he asked slyly. Dorian rolled his eyes. “I hear it goes  _beyond_  working with them,” he told the mage in an accusing tone. 

“You would be correct,” Dorian state flatly. That made the man flinch. Apparently he hadn’t expected the mage to be so blunt. “Are we almost done here? I have other matters to attend to.”

“Like your ox?” The tailor’s lips formed a disgusted snarl that was visible just under the line of his gold painted mask. “How a man of your status could lower himself to-”

Before the man could finish his rant, Dorian lowered his arms, glaring hard at the man. He took few steps forward, conjuring a ball of purple veilfire in his palm. The tailor dropped his tape, holding his hands in front of him. “Now, now we don’t have to…” he began, only to whimper as Dorian continued toward him. “Messere, please put your hands down!”

“Take your things and leave Skyhold before I render your very soul from its body,” he spat. “You dare insult the Inquisitor, one of the strongest people I’ve ever known. The woman who  _hired_  you.” He shoved the shorter man into the wall, enjoying the way he stumbled. 

“And Iron Bull…” he paused, feeling an ache in his chest. Once he too had only seen Bull as a ruthless beast. It had taken months for him to look past what he had been taught to see his kindness, his gentle nature, his fierce intelligence. 

Looking down at the tailor, he saw his old self. “Iron Bull is the best man you will  _ever_ meet. You’re lucky that he even spoke to you.” He jerked his chin toward the door. “Now get out before I change my mind about ripping out your soul.” The tailor fumbled to stand, grabbing his things and tossing them into his trunk. He quickly dragged it out the door, banging against the frame in his haste.

A low whistle sounded from the window and Dorian turned, seeing Krem leaning into room on his elbows. “I didn’t think I’d see the day when an Altus would defend a Qunari.” The Soporati smiled. “Don’t get your silk knickers in a bunch. I won’t tell Chief.”

Huffing, Dorian lifted his chin, still almost entirely naked. Not that Krem hadn’t accidentally seen it all before…Bull’s stupid locks. “You won’t have to. I’ll tell him.” Krem’s eyebrows shot up and Dorian nodded, walking over to the other man. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Stitches needed some more shite from the gardens. Could hear you yelling out here though. All the Chantry folks are still a bit shell shocked.” He grinned and Dorian blushed a bit. Had he been that loud?

“Well,” he straightened his stance and knelt to grab his robes, slipping into them and doing up the buckles. “We’re going to have to find a new tailor for Haramshiral. Best tell the Inquisitor.”

“She’s not going to be too happy about that,” Krem said, “All this shite is making her girlfriend crazy.” 

“I’ll make my formal apologies to Lady Montilyet this evening.” He swept his hair back and checked himself in the mirror. “Perhaps her personal tailor will be less of an arsehole.” 

He exhaled and turned toward the door where the tailor had left. “Time to face the consequences,” he gave Krem a mock of the Tevinter salute and marched through.

Less than five minutes after he had left, everyone in the courtyard heard a wailing, “WHAAAT!?” from the Inquisitor’s balcony. 

Bull raised an eyebrow, lowering his blade as everyone in the training yard turned toward the screaming. “Now what do you think that’s about?” he asked, glancing back to Krem. The Vint shrugged, lifting his shield back up.

“No idea, Chief.”


	15. Idle Days of Tevinter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:  
> http://sarahwhat.tumblr.com/post/127399972676/adoribull-prompt-sunday-justjasper-something

“Let’s never do this again,” Dorian shuddered as Bull scooped the mage up bridal style, carefully ascended the icy stairs. “As in, let’s go back North where the world and weather makes sense.” 

Bull chuckled, kicking the snow off the bottom of his boots. He set Dorian down, watching the human follow his lead before running inside. The mage revived the fire with magic and plopped down in front of it, shivering violently. 

“Nope, let’s get you out of those clothes, first, big guy.” Bull forced him back to stand, helping to peel the wet leather off the mage, setting their shoes and clothes by the grate to dry. He wrapped a naked Dorian in the red sheet and let him settle by the fire. “Can you heat this water for me, Kadan?” 

He offered the small pot and Dorian shakily traced a fire glyph over it. It began to steam and Bull kissed his cheek. “Thanks, Dorian.” 

Dorian turned back to the fire. He had never felt such a deep bone chill in his life. 

“Here.”

Bull settled down naked behind him, passing Dorian a small mug. It smelled spicy and the mage brought it to his nose for a better whiff.  _Cinnamon…_

He took a small sip and smiled softly. “Where did you get Tevinter tea leaves?” he asked, unwrapping the blanket and passing it to Bull. The Qunari tugged Dorian into his lap and wrapped the sheet around them both, leaving Dorian’s hands free to curl around the cup. 

“I have my ways.” Bull nuzzled his damp hair. “Feeling warmer?”

Dorian gave an affirming grunt and sipped at the tea before he handed it back to Bull, encouraging him to take a taste. Bull did, licking his lips. “It’s good. Still like red tea better, but it’s not bad at all.” He gave Dorian the mug and the mage inhaled the thick cloying scent.

“It never got this cold in Qarinus…never snowed anywhere in the Imperium…” He began slowly, “But on rainy days, my mother and I would make tea and sit in her study to read.” He stared at the cup, fingers tracing the minute cracks in the worn clay. His mother always put a little sugar and a twist of lemon in their cups, a tart contrast to the spicy cinnamon. 

Bull gently squeezed his waist with his massive thighs and the mage sighed. “You know…I never liked the cold before. It always felt so…lonely.” His mind flashed to the months he had been imprisoned by his father, trapped and alone, knowing what was to come. 

“That’s why we pile up.”

Dorian blinked and turned to look back at the Qunari. Bull shrugged, “Back in Par Vollen, if it got cold, everyone would pile up to keep warm. It’s more common on ships though, what with the wind.” He stroked Dorian’s shoulder, “Might be a big awkward if you get a foot or crotch in your face, but it’s better than spending the night shivering.” 

Dorian snorted, imagining Bull as a child piled with other Qunari children. The image was…sweet.

He cleared his throat. “Well you’ll have to introduce me to it another time.” He turned in Bull’s lap, placing the cup next to them. “I would like to be warmed up in a more…primal manner.”

Grinning, Bull nodded, letting Dorian drag him into a kiss. As they moved together under the blanket, the snow continued to fall, providing a gentle buffer against the world outside.


	16. Do it for Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:  
> "Demands of the Qun," but Dorian is the one to blow the horn and save the Chargers.

Adaar looked between the Dreadnought and the troops of Venatori slowly ascending the hill. The Chargers drew their weapons, readying themselves for another round as the ship worked against the tide and its own heft to pull out of the bay.

She glanced back to Bull and saw him quickly school his horror into a more stern, resolved expression. Her chest clenched and she closed her fists. “Bull…we need them to hold that hill,” she told him, brushing his shoulder as she was unable to meet his eye. The larger Qunari stiffened under her touch, but he didn’t respond. His single eye was on his men, watching as the Venatori drew their staves at the top of the hill.

“Are you completely  _mad!?_ ” 

Before Bull could react, Dorian snatched the horn from his hand and pulled away. Adaar and Gatt unsheathed their weapons, but Dorian had his stave in front of him, signing a glyph at their feet. Both rogues jumped back as the grass lit up like a barrier, smoke trailing into the cloudy air.

Glaring up at both Qunari, Dorian put the horn to his lips and blew. The low sound of the horn was carried across the coastline by the wind and immediately the Chargers lowered their weapons to withdraw into the woods. There was a cry of victory from the Venatori who jeered at the retreating mercenaries. Gatt swore. “Your Vint is a traitor!” he told Adaar. “He’s cost us the Dreadnought!”

Adaar turned to Dorian, lowering her own blades. “Explain yourself, Dorian.”

The mage snarled and tossed the horn away, letting it tumble over the cliffside. “No, you explain _yourself!_ ” He gestured to them both, fingers pointed accusingly at Adaar. “Those are our men!  _Your_ men, Bull!” Biting his lip, he lowered his stave, digging the bladed end of it into the ground. “We’re the  _Inquisition_. If we have to sacrifice from our own ranks to do what’s right then we are no better than our enemies.”

“And what about the people on that ship?” Gatt hissed, gesturing toward the ship that the Venatori were turning to aim toward. “What about  _them?_ ”

Bull put his hand on the elf’s shoulder, but Gatt twisted away, looking at him like he was a nug covered in shit. “And  _you_  didn’t stop him!? Hissrad, this alliance…”

“What’s done is done,” Adaar exhaled and sheathed her blades. Everyone turned to watch the ship as several fireballs were sent across the rolling walls, connecting with the hull of the Dreadnought.

There was a moment where everything seemed to slow, silence eating through the wailing of the gulls overhead.

And then there was fire and an explosion that echoed down the entire beach, shaking the ground beneath them.

The Bull winced and he exhaled slowly. Pieces of the ship rained down onto the shore as a fire blazed in the shallows where the remains of the Dreadnought were slowly beginning to sink.

The Venatori from the hill were cheering now, heaving their staves over their heads and chanting Tevene war cries.

Gatt closed his mouth, which had fallen open during the explosion, and lifted his chin defiantly. “I believe our business here…is done.” He gave a curt nod to the Inquisitor, but didn’t even look at the Bull as he shoved past him. The Qunari felt disappointment curl deep in his gut as Gatt’s footsteps faded into the distance. 

Suddenly he felt a hard painful smack to the side of his face. Iron Bull blinked and looked down to see Dorian was still looking at him hatefully, holding his stave which now had a small scratch from where it scraped across his horn. “How…how could you even  _think_  of letting them die?” he said in a quiet voice that shook with suppressed rage. 

“The Boss-” he began.

“She was  _wrong!_ You were both  _wrong!_ ” Dorian interrupted, waving his staff around. Adaar winced as she sat down on a log, rubbing over her horns. She looked up at them from where she settled and he could see the conflict in her green eyes.

“Dorian…I understand, but this alliance…” she trailed off for a moment, swallowing hard. “The Inquisition is more than six people. We need all the help we can get. If it was up to just me-”

“My dear, it is  _all_ up to you.” Dorian walked over and forced her back to her feet, not caring that she towered over him. He crossed his arms over his chest. “What if that had been Varric or Sera or Blackwall? Would you have so willingly cast them aside? Would you have gladly watched them be spited on a Venatori blade?” 

The Inquisitor shook her head and the Bull could tell she was done by the way Dorian’s words made her lip wobble. She pushed past the mage and started back toward camp, her steps hurried and sloppy as she stumbled in the mud. 

Next to them, Cole stood staring out at the broken ship, the fire bright in his watery blue eyes. The Bull wondered if he was searching for the last thoughts of the dead and dying. 

He wasn’t tempted to ask.

Eventually Dorian turned back to him, but rather than saying anything, he lifted his stave back up and smacked him across the face with it a second time. The Vint didn’t pull his punches and it stung like a bitch, leaving a small cut above his eyebrow. With that, the mage stalked off back to camp behind Adaar, leaving Bull the Cole to stand alone on the corpse-ridden hill. 

“He knows you love them.” 

Iron Bull glanced to the Spirit who was kneeling, poking at a blood-stained weed. “He knew he had to save them for you.”

The Qunari exhaled and ran a hand over his face, his fingers coming back bloody from the cut. “A Qunari isn’t supposed to love like that. Nothing comes before the Qun. He had no right to do that to me…for me…whatever.” He clenched his fist, frustrated with himself. 

“But you’re not unhappy that they survived.”

Bull groaned and he sat down where Adaar had vacated. His knee felt so damn sore and he wanted nothing more than to soak it for the next year, forget this day happened. “I was always going to have to choose. I just figured it would be on my own terms. Not someone else’s.” He closed his eye and felt the light drizzle of rain. “I’d go back to Par Vollen when they asked and Krem’d take over the Chargers. Everyone would go on their merry way and that’d be that.”

Cole appeared next to him, nearly making the Qunari jump. He held the weed, roots and all in his hand now, plucking at the blood stained bits. The Spirit cleaned the weed and placed it into a small knot in the tree trunk, putting some dirt inside to cover the roots. “The ants like the milkweed, but it’s too wet outside to get to it,” he said in a soft voice, hiding his face under the wide brim hat. 

Tucking his knees to his chest, Cole wrapped his arms around them, appearing so damn small that Bull almost wanted to hug him like Tama did when he was still young. But the Spirit never shivered in the cold or seemed to feel the rain. He probably wouldn’t want it, let alone need it. 

“He hurts for you. For her as well.”

“Adaar?”

Cole nodded, tracing the scars in his own leather boots. “Friends he never thought he deserved. He wants to stop the hurt the way you did for him.” 

“There’s no good end to this is there? No…right choice,” Bull breathed. “Either my men die…or I’m Tal-Vashoth.” Lowering his head, he shook it slowly, feeling the rain slide down the base of his horns. “Damnit, Dorian…”

“He’d rather you blame him than blame yourself. He loves you.” Cole touched the Qunari’s arm. “ _Anything for him_.”

That made the Bull smile. It was small, but there never the less.


	17. Antivan Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:  
> To alleviate some of the boredom between missions, Skyhold residents start a series of groups and clubs. Bull and Dorian may or may not have gotten involved way over their heads. In this case: Dancing.

The Iron Bull was far more graceful than anyone ever gave him credit for. Dorian watched with just the smallest amount of envy as he glided with Josephine across the stone dance floor, their hips moving in mirror to one another. He was almost three heads taller than their political advisor, but he seemed to always know how to adjust himself, where to move so he wouldn’t overwhelm or overstep. 

Dipping Josephine near the crescendo of the Antivan number, the Bull smoothly reeled her back in to his chest. When they parted again, there was definitely a light flush to her dark skin. 

The music ended and the audience clapped, Dorian joining in as they bowed to each other. Bull even kissed the back of her hand like a true gentleman. 

It was stupid, but he did feel a small possessive twitch at that. He brushed it from his mind as Bull stepped off the makeshift dance floor and sauntered straight toward him. His movements were somewhat jerky, much less smooth than his dancing had been. Dorian’s attention fell to the warrior’s knee which lacked its normal brace so as to allow Bull to sport a set of new dance shoes. 

“Enjoy the show?” Iron Bull asked as he picked up a flask of water. He drained it as he wiped the sheen of sweat from his brow with the back of his opposite hand. 

Dorian huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Antivan dances are too fast and flashy,” he said, lifting his chin. “Hard to admire the grace of the motion when your feet are going faster than the eye can travel.” He smiled though, removing any real bite to his words. 

Bull chuckled. “Well Tevinter’s all belly dancing in the streets and formal waltzing in the salons.” He glanced back to Josephine, seeing Adaar had stepped forward, the Inquisitor taking her hand for the next dance. Josephine smiled, her eyes full of unbidden affection as she led the Qunari to the dance floor. 

“I guess it says something that I was always better at belly dancing than waltzing,” Dorian winced as Adaar nearly stepped on Josie’s feet at every turn. Josephine looked charmed though as her taller partner struggled to keep up. Bull watched them as well, smirking when Josie stepped back and corrected Adaar’s footwork. 

“You should show me sometime. It’s one of the few things I liked about Tevinter.” He wrapped an arm around Dorian’s waist, his stubbed fingers hooking at the mage’s hip. Dorian leaned into the larger man’s touch, enjoying the warmth and the musk of his sweat. 

He hummed and glanced to Bull’s knee, “Let’s sit you down and take a look at that knee before we attempt anymore dancing lessons.” He gently brushed Bull’s scruffy jaw with the backs of his knuckles and pulled away to leave the main hall. 

Bull followed him outside to the stone steps and gingerly sat down, stretching out his leg with a pained grunt. Dorian knelt next to him, pushing his pants up to the knee and frowning. It definitely looked swollen. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Iron Bull said with a soft disarming smile. “Don’t worry so much.”

Dorian huffed and chilled his fingers, icing the thick scars that knotted across the front and back of Bull’s knee. Slowly he heated them up. 

The gradual change from ice cold to pleasantly hot made the Qunari purr, closing his eye. Dorian traced the bone and said, “We’re putting in a requisition for another brace. Something that will fit over shoes other than your combat gear.” His tone was stern, giving little room for argument. 

Smirking, Bull glanced back down at Dorian. “Sure. You gonna teach me to belly dance after it’s finished then?” He waggled his eyebrows. 

The mage rolled the fabric back over the Qunari’s knee, kissing it through the cloth. He straightened up to meet Bull’s gaze, “You’re hips don’t lie, Amatus. You’d be very good at it.” He rubbed over the knee, “But you aren’t setting foot on another dance floor until we get you something to support this.” 

Iron Bull smiled and drew Dorian to his chest, kissing him softly. “If I’m not allowed to dance until then, can I watch you?” 

Dorian gave a sultry smile, “I’d be insulted if you didn’t want to watch me dance.” He stood and helped Bull to his feet. “But for now, let me show you a more…private number.” He winked and the Qunari grinned, eagerly following the mage back to their shared room.


	18. A Shame Upon Thy House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:  
> Bull & Dorian get caught making out early on in the something.

There was no denying that the first night he had been drunk. 

But that made it easier. He could just blame it on the alcohol when he escaped the Bull’s room the next day. Him and the Bull had both had too much to drink and in a stupor, they had gone back to the warrior’s room and…

However, the second time he hadn’t been drunk. Oh sure, he’d had a glass of wine with his evening meal, but that had been his dinner practice since he was a child. 

The Iron Bull had also not been particularly liquored. He had seen the Qunari take a single (albeit _large_ ) celebratory drink with his men for a successful job, but otherwise, the warrior let his cups run dry.

This was to be the third time. 

There had been no drinks involved as they were in the middle of the Forbidden Oasis and the only alcohol present was for disinfection. Cassandra was left to sit by the fire for first watch, but Dorian was far to used to sneaking out under heavier guard than a single Seeker. 

He slunk into the Bull’s tent, sober as a Chantry Mother on Funalis. 

Bull was already in the process of removing his armor, what little he wore anyway. “Dorian?” he said with a raised brow. “Something wrong?” The Bull set aside his things and patted the space beside him for Dorian to sit. That single green eye was wrinkled with concern and it had Dorian feeling strangely flustered.

“I’m absolutely dandy. Just wanted to have a bit of fun on the road is all,” he said, the lint to his voice sarcastic and mildly annoyed. He wasn’t one to go to the Bull of all people for advice or comfort. Sex was the end goal. 

Then again, perhaps the Bull expected more subtlety? Dorian internally rolled his eyes. Games were for Orlesians and he was a grown man. He had long since stopped playing coy with his conquests. 

“Oh,” Bull said, somewhat surprised as he rubbed the back of his head. “I didn’t bring any oil. Or towels.” He pursed his lips and dug through his things. It was so casual that it made Dorian feel confused for a moment. He recovered and tossed a small vial at the Qunari. It hit Bull square in the chest before dropping down in his lap. Bull dug it out from the folds of fabric and raised an eyebrow suspiciously. “Made plans, big guy?”

Dorian huffed, “I’d rather be prepared for anything. Including sordid trysts in a tent with a Qunari barbarian.” He began to unbuckle his robes, the metal clinking somewhat noisily in the quiet tent. “So are we going to do this or am I going to have to find a scout to entertain me tonight?”

The Bull shrugged and stood to his full height, “Alright, but I’ve got some conditions.” He crossed those impressive arms over his chest and Dorian scowled but continued undressing himself with complete efficiency.

“I remember from the last time.  _Katoh_ and we’re done,” he snapped, throwing his clothes into a pile beside the bedroll. He was about to remove his undertunic when Bull leaned down and pressed a large finger to his lips, effectively silencing him.

Shaking his head, Bull said, “New ones. If you don’t like ‘em, you can find someone else.” He gave the mage a serious look and Dorian just sighed exaggeratedly as he pulled his tunic over his head, exposing his chest. 

“If you must…” he muttered dejectedly. 

The Bull relaxed and licked his lips. “For tonight, you let me be in charge. If you don’t like something, I’ll stop at the watchword, no questions asked..” He adjusted his belt, loosening the clasp. “But I’m calling the shots. Can you do that, Dorian?” 

Dorian had just finished removing his pants and was about to give a sarcastic remark when the Bull dropped his trousers. The words died in his throat and he instead swallowed hard. He had seen it twice before now, but it was always so…

“Eyes up here, Dorian.”

The mage blushed and glanced back up to Bull who looked entirely too smug. “Yes…fine.” He waved the other man off and laid back on the bedroll. “Now get down here before I change my mind.”

Bull chuckled and knelt over him. “Can do…”

* * *

The next morning, Dorian rose with the sun, pulling on his clothes with practiced finesse. He yawned and rubbed his mustache, mussing it further before he went back to buckling each belt quickly. 

“Morning, handsome.”

He blinked and turned, seeing the Bull was staring up at him from the bedroll. His one eye was alert, but half-lidded. From fondness or exhaustion, Dorian couldn’t tell. “Leaving so soon?”

“Yes,” Dorian said curtly. “Last night was satisfactory, but today we go back to the way things are.” He pulled on his pants and stepped into his boots, clasping the buckles together. 

He heard the Bull stand behind him and suddenly hands grasped his shoulders, gently turning him. “Can I get a goodbye kiss at least?” Bull asked, still so casually nude. 

Dorian looked at him and said, “I don’t know what you think this is but-”

“It’s just a kiss, big guy. Not asking you to propose.” Bull gave him a disarming wink and the mage sighed. There was something about the Bull that made it terribly difficult to refuse. Then again, it was only a kiss, something they had done dozens of times over now.

“Alright…” he lifted onto his toes and met the Bull halfway, letting the other man wrap his big warm arms around his waist. The Bull was always so gentle when he held him, like he was something precious. It was…unnerving. 

“Hey Bull, are you up? I need to ask you about those repo-”

Dorian turned and froze as he saw Adaar and Cassandra’s shocked expressions from the raised tent flap. He felt his cheeks redden as they took in their compromising position and the Bull’s complete lack of clothes.  _“Fasta vas”_

Cassandra recovered first, cheeks blazing bright red as she averted her eyes. “Well…we will give you two a moment.” She dragged Adaar’s wrist, making the Qunari stumble after her. The tent flap closed with a muffled  _fwap_  behind them.

Bull cleared his throat, but Dorian did not turn. He felt completely frozen to the floor, his hands limp were they hung. 

This was not the first time he had been caught in a compromising situation. Dorian couldn’t count the number of times a family retainer or servant found him passed out in a brothel, higher than a Vinsomer in summer and surrounded by dozens of male prostitutes. 

Even his mentor Alexius had been forced to retrieve him on occasion, giving him disgusted looks every time he returned to his studies with a hangover. The initial shame from those encounters ore off fast. He was already going to have to hide who he was for the rest of his life. He already felt so trapped. 

That had been the only way to rebel. To escape his fate.

And yet despite feeling no embarrassment from those times, those  _far_ more elicit times…he felt shame creeping down his spine from someone seeing him kiss the Iron Bull. 

“Dorian…are you ok?”

He was pulled from his own shock by the Bull’s gentle tone. The Qunari seemed genuinely worried as he touched the mage’s face with his scarred hand, so gentle despite all appearances. 

Dorian shook his head and stepped back to give himself some distance. “I’m fine. Stop coddling me, you brute.” He shoved at the other man’s chest and the Bull frowned.

“Just checking in on you.” He picked up his pants and slipped them on, closing the belt around his massive middle. His tone was clipped, but the worry was still there. Maker, Dorian hated it. 

The mage turned on his heel and huffed “Don’t expect a repeat performance,” He didn’t offer the man a goodbye. Instead, he marched out of the tent, his robes fluttering dramatically with each step.

A few nights later, Dorian came back to the Bull’s tent. When he slipped under the covers next to the Qunari, he felt the other man’s chest rumble with suppressed laughter.

“Don’t you dare say a word.”


	19. Bed Warmer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:  
> Imagine Person A of your OTP really getting attached by how warm Person B makes the bed when they fall asleep together/cuddle so when Person B comes home from some trip Person A yells at them because their bed was so cold.

He hated it when the Boss took Dorian without him. He knew the mage would laugh and call him a worrisome idiot or some other Vint insult/endearment, but he didn’t like not knowing what was going on out there. Old spy habits.

And maybe a  _bit of_ worry.

That and he had gotten used to the man’s touch. Before, Iron Bull went to bed alone without issue or if he was in the mood for company, he’d get a pretty barmaid. 

Ever since he and Dorian had started this… _thing_ , he found himself wishing for jasmine scented hands on him, touching over the muscles of his shoulders and pressing firmly into his grey skin.

Without Dorian beside him, the bed felt pretty cold too. Qunari burned hot so Bull rarely felt chilled, even in the South. Nevertheless, he let the mage keep a constant fire going in his room and heat the sheets with magic. 

It had taken some time to get used to it, but the sudden absence of it all was striking. 

Iron Bull rubbed the sheets between his fingers. They smelled of Dorian’s lotion and the cologne he sometimes broke out when he felt like being fancy. Something that happened less and less these days as the war dragged on.

He exhaled and shoved the sheets off himself, going over to the fireplace. He built a small stand of kindling and used the flint to get some sparks going. The flames grew slowly, but after a few minutes they were dancing happily in the grate. It wasn’t as powerful as the conjurations Dorian made, but it was better than nothing. 

The crackle of the fire at least could fill the silence.

The night Dorian left, he had been lounging against his vanity in his silky Antivan robe, a book and pen in his hand. He’d bathed that night because he knew how long they would be in the Wastes and there was no chance that they would waste what little fresh water they had on bathing. 

 _“Gonna come to bed?”_  Bull had asked him as he removed his belt, letting his pants drop to the floor.  _“Got a long ass trip tomorrow.”_

Dorian sighed and lowered his book. _“Don’t remind me. I’m going to have saddle sores for days.”_  He stood and walked over to the bed, laying the book on the nightstand.  _“Are you going to miss me?”_ he asked, smiling handsomely as Bull laid down on the sheets, unashamed in his nudity.

 _“Course not,”_  Bull teased, staring up at the man. Dorian snorted and gave his leg a gentle slap before settling next to him. The mage leaned down and Bull met him halfway for a kiss. 

The mage pulled back a few inches, his grey eyes half-lidded.  _“I suppose if you don’t want to give me a proper goodbye, I can always head back to my room.”_

The Bull lifted his head and stared at the gentle snow fall wafting down outside the window. It muffled all other sound, making it feel like the world was empty save for him, Dorian, and the fire in the grate.  _“You want to walk through a foot of snow rather than stay here where we can be nice and warm together?”_  He ran his hand up Dorian’s thigh, brushing the robe back to expose smooth brown skin. 

 _“You do make a good point,”_ Dorian acknowledged,  _“But I might need a bit more convincing.”_  He rocked his hips forward and the Qunari smiled, dragging him back into another kiss.

The memory made Bull sigh, sitting back down on the bed. The room was pleasantly warm now with the fire, but the bed still felt wrong. He laid down nevertheless and folded his hands over his stomach. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the book Dorian had left on the nightstand. He reached for it and braced his back against the headboard. 

High Tevene,  _great_.

Dorian’s translation notes were scrawled on spare pieces of parchment that had been folded into the pages like bookmarks. Bull smiled softly, reading over Dorian’s notes, his personality coming out even in his most professional work:  _Dreadfully dry. Spends more time discussing the architecture of the ballroom than of the people in it._

He read through Dorian’s translations well into the night and the next day, he repeated the process. 

Three weeks passed before Adaar’s party returned.

* * *

Dorian groaned, slogging up to his room first to drop off his things before doubling back to Bull’s chambers. Stairs…who invented them? They clearly weren’t thinking of tired Tevinter mages with boot sores the size of brontos. 

He opened the door and found Bull was at his desk writing. “No welcome at the gate?” he said, closing the door behind him, blocking out a flurry of snow that threatened to follow him indoors. He relaxed a bit, moving to stand behind the Qunari, inhaling the slight musk and cloves that clung to his lover. Something about the vitaar he made, it always smelled like the North.

“Come now, I’m a hero. Don’t I deserve a hero’s welcome for trudging through sand until the end of time?” he asked, hands on his hips.

Slowly, Bull turned his head and Dorian winced. Maker’s breath, the Qunari looked worse than he did. ”Bull…Bull what happened?” he asked, reaching forward to cradle the other man’s face. Bull shrugged.

“I just didn’t get a lot of sleep,” he said, smiling softly, stretching the slight bags under his eyes. “Welcome home, big guy.” He stood and drew Dorian into a hug, the mage squawking as he knew he had to smell absolutely horrible. 

“You look like you haven’t slept in a week,” Dorian said as he pulled back. Bull shrugged and the mage frowned, “Go. To. Sleep.” He shoved the larger man toward the bed and Bull chuckled. 

“I’d prefer if you were in it,” he told the mage. 

Dorian blushed. “I just got back you horny goat! Give me some time to rest first.”

“That’s what I meant. Rest.” Bull sat on the bed and said, “Go take a bath and come back here. I’ll wait.” He leaned back on his hands and Dorian raised a brow. He nodded and took one of his towels and some soaps and oils before leaving again. 

* * *

When he returned, Bull was already under the covers and waiting for him. Dorian smiled as the Qunari lifted the sheets in invitation. “Let me light a fire first.” He turned to the grate and snapped his fingers. The fire sprang to life and filled the room with warmth. 

He sauntered over to Bull and removed the tunic and pants he had donned after he bathed, slipping in next to him. The Qunari’s big arms wrapped around him and pulled him against that broad chest. “Much better,” he said as he allowed the other man to cocoon the blankets around them. 

“Yeah, the bed was pretty cold without you,” Bull murmured into his shoulder. 


	20. Put Your Faith in Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:   
> Faith

The first time he prayed to Andraste, he was 14 and lonely; trapped in a Circle filled with boys far more vindictive and more vicious than he would ever be.

The second time he prayed, he was 25 and his only friend in the world had been stricken with the long suffering Blight. 

The third time, he was near 30 and his father had imprisoned him in his own home, determined to “fix” his “unnatural” ways regardless of the costs. 

The fourth time was barely over a year after the third. 

That night, he sat in a bed that wasn’t his own, in a country that wasn’t his own, with a man who…he  _desperately_ wanted to be his own. 

“Kadan?”

Dorian opened his eyes, lowering his hands that had been clasped so tightly in prayer that the knuckles were whiter than Madame de Fer’s robes. “Bull…I didn’t mean to wake you.” He turned to look at the Qunari, “Go back to sleep.”

The Bull stared at him with his single green eye, grey skin highlighted by the waning moon streaming through the hole in the ceiling. “You should be asleep too.” He patted the space between them, urging Dorian to move closer. “What’s on your mind?”

When the mage was settle next to him, Dorian just shook his head and sighed. “It’s nothing…just being foolish.” 

“Didn’t seem foolish. Looked like you were praying,” Bull said, running his hand through Dorian’s tousled hair, curling his index finger around the length of his ear. 

“Yes, I was…”

Bull’s brow furrowed, “What about, Kadan?” he asked in a soft voice. When Dorian didn’t answer, he didn’t press, just let his fingers continue to trace over the lines of Dorian’s bone structure. Ever patient…

The mage closed his eyes. “The Maker’s never answered my prayers anyway. It’s a child’s ploy at wishful thinking.” He moved to roll over, but Bull gripped his chin and kissed him. Dorian relaxed, letting the Bull’s scarred lips and coaxing tongue wash over him. When they pulled back for air, his eyes fluttered open and he stared at the other man, his heart pounding hard against his ribs. 

“What were you wishing for, Dorian?” he asked quietly. 

Swallowing hard, Dorian found himself unable to form the words. “What does it matter?” he managed, his voice hoarse. 

“What you want  _matters,_ ” Bull assured him, taking both of Dorian’s hands and gently squeezing them in his large palms. “What you believe  _matters._ ” He released Dorian’s hands and kissed over his fingers one at a time. Dorian watched him, his chest clenching. 

The Maker probably wouldn’t listen, would probably take this small scrap of happiness away as he always did and Andraste would remain blind and deaf to it all. It would hurt when it happened, oh it would _hurt._  

“I love you,” he said softly, looking at Bull in the dark. Bull blinked and then smiled.

“What brought this on?” he asked, pulling Dorian close so their chests met. He could feel the Bull’s heartbeat against his own ribs. 

Dorian just sighed, selfishly leaning into all the places where their bodies connected, “I just don’t know how long we have. The Maker likes to torment me so.” He wrapped his arms around the other man’s neck. “So before I lose you, I wanted to say it at least  _once._ ”

_I want to be selfish and keep something good for myself._

As he spoke, the Bull’s smile dropped. He sighed softly and said, “Dorian, your Maker doesn’t get to decide when or if this ends. _We_  do.” He kissed the mage and stroked through his hair. “I haven’t said ‘Katoh’ so it’s not over.” He gave a small wink and Dorian chuckled. 

“I suppose you haven’t…” 

Nodding, Bull reached down and gave the mage’s arse a small squeeze, “Sides, your Maker is gonna have to do an awful lot to get me to say no more to  _this_.” Dorian yelped and glared at the Qunari who just snorted and grinned, giving him another sharp pinch. 

“Willing to defy the Maker in the name of my arse?” Dorian drawled, feeling less burdened, but still wary. 

The Qunari just grinned widely. “Shit yeah. You’ve seen your ass, right? I’d go to war for it.” 

“You are…impossible,” Dorian said, shaking his head as he tried very much not to laugh as Bull’s chest rumbled against his.

“Want me to make it my new company banner?”

“Don’t you  _dare_.”

“You’re right, we’d need a  _lot_  of fabric to fit it all.”

“Maker help me…”


	21. When the Moon Hits Your Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:  
> Sleep deprived Dorian gets giggly and very enthusiastic about Bull's arms. Bull is both flattered and highly amused.

The tray on the stand was untouched when he rounded the staircase, tea long gone cold in the night chill. Bull’s shoulders slumped as he sighed, looking around the deserted alcove. He was used to Dorian staying up late into the evening, but now it had to be just a few minutes past the Witching Hour if his interpretation of the watch rotation was accurate. 

“He’s downstairs,” a monotone voice said behind him, slippered feet barely scraping against the worn stone. The Qunari turned and smiled at Helisma, watching as the mage worked at her desk, stacking several jars of pickled…livers? 

“How long has he been down there?” he asked, gesturing to the forgotten dinner tray. He had brought that up around sundown, much to Dorian’s insistence that he didn’t need to be served or tended to like a child.

The Tranquil just moved past him, her pace unhurried, and eyes unblinking, “Since the last bell, The Iron Bull.” 

Shaking his head, Bull sighed and rubbed the back of his horns. That figured…

“Alright. Thanks, Helisma.”

“Let me know if there is anything else I can do to be of assistance,” she said, not even glancing back at him as she collected more samples from the cupboard. 

* * *

The entire castle was quiet save for the murmuring of the night guards and the crackle of torches. That and the stead creaking he made with each step down the stairs. 

The downstairs library was far more private and larger than Dorian’s favored shelves, but also dingy and full of dust. Dorian had looked horrified when they first discovered the place, running one long finger over a single shelf and pointedly showing him the dirt. 

Adaar had gotten someone to clean it out, but Dorian insisted that they needn’t waste the time requisitioning more candles and continued to do his studying and research where the sunlight could reach.

Until tonight.

Bull gently wedged open the door, looking into the closed off nook. Dorian’s back was to him, hunched over the desk that had been arranged dramatically in the center of the room. Slowly the Qunari made his way over, placing his hand on the back of Dorian’s shoulder. The mage turned and the Bull winced at his bloodshot eyes, the tired droop of his facial hair. “Hey big guy…you skipped dinner.”

Dorian shrugged as if it was of little consequence, “I have a lead. I need to concentrate.” He yawned and rubbed at the side of his mustache, mussing it entirely beyond repair.

“So you locked yourself in the dungeon library?”

The mage snorted and tried to lean back artfully, but ended up nearly tipping the chair. Bull caught it and steadied him without a word. Huffing, Dorian muttered, “Vivienne was moving more furniture upstairs. My work requires  _some_  semblance of peace and quiet.” 

He yawned again and Bull gently turned him, forcing him up to stand. “That’s all well and good, but it’s time to turn in for the day.” 

Dorian gave a dismissive whine, but he didn’t have the energy to fight. “Let me get my things,” he said, pulling at the other man’s grip. Bull nodded and released him, watching as Dorian stacked the books and rolled up his notes. 

As soon as everything was safely tucked into the mage’s satchel, Bull yanked Dorian back and lifted him up into his arms, letting the mage rest his head against his chest. “Fasta vass, must you-” he winced as the Bull turned, making his feet knock hard into the bookshelf. 

“Sorry, Kadan.” Bull kissed his brow and then carried him out. “I doubt you could handle the stairs right now.”

“And you can?” Dorian asked, looking at him, his expression changing from slightly annoyed to worried. It made Bull’s chest ache as he carried Dorian outside, refusing to answer. 

A few of the guards just grinned at them, others shaking his heads, but otherwise, they managed to get to the practically empty tavern unharassed. 

By the time Bull managed to open the door, Dorian was almost passed out against him. The only sign that told Bull he was still awake was the gentle fingers tracing the scars of the breast. 

“Just a little longer, Dorian. Let’s get you undressed.” He settled Dorian on the bed and tugged at the intricate buckles of the mage’s boots. “Can you get your pants started?”

Kicking out slightly, Dorian smiled and fingered the laces against his groin, “I could. Especially after that brutish display.” He licked his lips, “Have I told you lately how much I adore your muscles?”

The Qunari shook his head, even as he smiled to himself. “Not tonight,” Bull insisted, removing both boots and leaning up, kissing Dorian’s lips. Dorian tried to follow him, but Bull pushed him back against the mattress easily. 

He giggled and said, “Since when do you turn me down?” Dorian clumsily tugged the laces open, shimming his hips seductively to get out of his trousers. 

Bull rolled his eye and said, “Tempting, but no.” He placed both of their boots by the door and took Dorian’s pants, laying them over the chair, leaving him in his outer robe, under tunic, and those lovely silk smalls. 

Dorian’s fingers flicked the belts of his robe open one by one as he smirked and purred, “I disagree.” He reached for the Bull’s hand, lacing their fingers together. 

“Disagree all you want, but you need sleep more than you need sex right now.” Bull said with a smirk. “Tell you what, I’ll wake you up with a blowjob tomorrow.” He gently smacked Dorian’s thigh. “Sound good?”

Throwing his head back against the pillows, Dorian laughed and shook his head, “As if I’d want to leave bed after that.” He lifted his arms, letting Bull pull the outer robe off and lay it on top of the pants. 

“Maybe that’s the plan. Keep you in bed all day,” Bull teased, working on the under tunic, baring beautiful brown skin to the dim embers that lit the room. 

“You are a terrible man,” Dorian said, laughing as he stretched out on the sheets. It was an enticing sight, this beautiful man completely relaxed and languid in his bed. Bull bit his lip and went to the vanity, wetting a cloth with his flask and gently cleaning the makeup off of Dorian’s face. There wasn’t much left after such a long day, but he knew how hard it was to get kohl stains out of the sheets. 

With that, the Bull stripped off his own clothes, letting his eyepatch drop onto the vanity for the night. When he turned back around, Dorian’s eyes were closed and his breathing was slower. He looked so peaceful, dark hair tousled and unkempt. 

Slowly, Bull settled down into bed, careful to scoot him just a bit to give himself enough room. “Night handsome.” He kissed Dorian’s cheek, curling around the human, his hand stroking down the mage’s side.


	22. Relative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:  
> Dorian or Bull sees the other get hurt and can't get to them during a big battle (the final battle, in the arbor wilds)?? Ideally, I'd like a happy ending, but free reign!

Dorian had known for over a decade just how fickle time was. At this point, there was very little that could surprise him.

He knew that it was possible to stop time, albeit temporarily. He knew it was possible to suspend time for someone else, but leave the rest of the world spinning and untouched. He knew that it was possible to go forward in time and return without tearing a hole in the fabric of the universe (Thank you very much, Alexius). 

But as far as he had ever known, time did not slow down or speed up. That sort of thing was an illusion based on faulty perception. 

Time could stop and start up again, but always at the same speed, forward or backward.

And yet as the Bull took a battle axe imbued with red lyrium to the sternum, he saw the impossible.

Time slowed down.

Dorian had been running. He  _knows_  he that he ran, but it felt as if he was slogging through knee-deep mud. The noise around him became distorted, drawling echos from a distant plane of existence. 

And Bull…

Bull was falling, shards of lyrium partially crushed into his skin, broken pieces raining down around him. His single eye was wide and shocked as he lost grip on his own blade, the weapon tumbling to the ground faster than its owner.

Dorian saw the Templar raise the axe again, the lyrium glazed and dripping Bull’s blood onto the muddy grass. 

He could feel his own breath echoing in his ears, his pulse in his cheeks. 

He still was too far away. 

Raising his stave, Dorian cast a barrier, watching the light envelope the Qunari just as the axe connected a second time.

Before Dorian could react, an arrow connected with his side, embedding deep. He felt the sharp pierce and the pressure, the weight. Wet warmth trickled down his abdomen, but he ignored it, still running even as time conspired against him.

His barrier was flickering and the Bull was struggling to get back onto his feet. Where was Adaar? Where was Vivienne? Dorian didn’t risk turning around.

The Bull locked eyes with him for a moment. Then he smiled and suddenly, time sped up.

Dorian could hear the clanging of swords and staves, could hear the crackle of ice as Vivienne cast. His feet carried him to the Bull’s side as the Templar raised his axe high. 

Dorian stabbed the Templar through the throat with the end of his staff, twisting cruely. The man gurgled and fell to his knees, dropping the axe with a thud, the blade flattening the damp grass.

The mage pulled the blade out and turned to Bull. “Amatus…” he pressed his hand to his chest, feeling the broken ribs, knowing there was internal bleeding. 

Bull coughed and gave him a goofy smile that Dorian had grown to adore over the past year.

“Hey big guy…nice work.” 


	23. Colors of Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:  
> carving a pumpkin

“Bull, you’re getting seeds everywhere.”

Dorian pointed dragged a stringy line of pulp off his phone screen, all the while shooting not so subtle glares at his boyfriend. Pausing from his work, the Qunari grinned and wiggled his gooey fingers. “Not  _everywhere_ …” he said in a low voice, his single eye glinting.

“Don’t you  _dare_ ,” Dorian growled as the Bull put down the carving knife, slowly rounding the kitchen island. “Bull…if you touch me-”

Clammy, pumpkin smeared fingers grabbed his face, pulling him forward out of his stool and into an ungainly smooch. The mage flailed and shoved back, grimacing as he felt over the sticky mess coating his cheeks. 

Next to him, Bull howled with laughter, grabbing a cloth and wetting it to wipe away the pulp. “Kadan, I’m not gonna lie. Orange isn’t  _really_ your color.”


	24. As the Sun Sets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:  
> So, um, it's still Sunday and it's my birthday tomorrow, so I thought, if you still do Adoribull prompt Sunday thingy: How members of The Inner Circle realise that Adoribull is a thing? <3 Bonus point for someone walking on them making out.

“I thought Bull was going to be joining us this evening?” Adaar said as she settled in her usual chair, letting one of Cabot’s girls pour her an ale. She pulled it forward and licked some of the froth from the rim, staring expectantly at the dwarf across the table.

Varric shuffled the cards with a practiced hand and smiled softly, “He seemed to have his hands full the last I checked. Figured it was best to leave him be tonight.” He began to deal and Sera snorted, grabbing her cards and making a face.

“Fussy britches is missing too.” She kicked her feet up onto the table, nearly knocking over Blackwall’s pint. The Warden shot her a short-lived glare as she continued with, “Send the thing to go and fetch him from his tower.” Sera jerked her thumb back at Cole.

The Spirit just picked through his cards with thin, gentle hands. “But why? He’s not in the library,” he said matter-of-factly. 

“That’s unusual. He turn in early?” Blackwall asked, now holding his pint and eyeing Sera’s slippered feet wearily. Adaar nodded. It was a rare evening that Dorian spent away from the tavern and the library. If he wasn’t nestled in his nook, he was always down with them nursing back several glasses of cheap wine. 

“He’s upstairs.”

Sera stuck her tongue out. “That’s a load of shite if I ever heard it. Wasn’t up there when I was heading down.” She shifted her feet and looked back to her cards.

Varric just covered his mouth, “How about we go ahead and get started? If Dorian decides to join us later-”

“The Iron Bull’s room is upstairs,” Cole interrupted, still looking over his cards, the brim of his hat concealing his face.

The table fell silent, the din of the tavern filling the void left by their conversation.

“Bull’s room…” Adaar said slowly, her tongue feeling thick as she folded her hand flat on the table. “ _With_  the Iron Bull?” 

Cole nodded in confirmation. “It’s the fourth time this week.” 

“Wot!?” Sera sat up and pressed her cards flush to the wood. “Oh I’ve got to see.” She made to stand, but Varric grabbed her arm and yanked her back before she could take more than a single step. “ _Oi_ , lemme go!”

“Sera, probably not the best idea to go marching in when they could be in the middle of.. _.things,_ ” Blackwall turned red and took a drink, a _deep_  one. 

Huffing, the elf plopped back down on her seat, glaring at Varric. “ _You_ knew. How long’s this been on’, yeah?” She shoved at his shoulder and he raised an eyebrow.

“As far as I know, since the Wastes. All that talk of ‘conquering’.” Varric shook his head. “At any rate, we won’t be seeing either of them any time soon.”

Adaar looked to the dwarf, tempted to ask her own questions, but she just picked up her cards and chewed her lip instead. 

A few rounds into the game, a small sheet of paper made its way into Adaar’s hand. It was a doodle of….what was supposed to be Sera and herself waiting outside a door? 

Oh, that was  _evil._

She looked up and met Sera’s eyes, allowing herself a small smile. The elf just clicked her tongue and winked.

* * *

They had been staking out the door to Bull’s room for the past hour. Most of the tavern guests had left at this point and the night was turning quiet save for the kitchen staff clanking away for the nightly clean. 

Adaar could feel her legs cramping as she crouched behind the crates, having to keep extra low to keep her horns from curling over the rim of the box. Sera leaned onto her shoulder as they both watched the door, listening and waiting.

There was almost no noise that they could hear, the clatter of dishes too loud even up two flights of stairs. 

But they did see the door open, a slightly disheveled Dorian stepping out, straightening his robes which appeared to be no worse for wear. In fact, if it wasn’t for his mussed mustache and the limp coif of his hair, Adaar wouldn’t have even suspected there had been any naughty going’s on. 

“When are you gonna stay for the night?” they heard Bull’s voice tease. Dorian snorted, sweeping his bangs up and back.

“When the sun rises in the Imperium and sets in the Par Vollen.” He smiled though, belaying his insult. Adaar thought he looked almost fond.

Bull stepped out onto the landing, his hands cupping Dorian’s shoulders, rubbing his thumb tenderly over the more exposed of the two. “Well, you know that’s always an option if you’re ever up for it, big guy. Bed’s large enough.”

“It certainly is,” Dorian said, a slight flush to his face. Sera bit down on her thumb to stifle her bubbling laughter and nudged Adaar’s shoulder. “I appreciate the offer.”

“Anytime.” The Bull grinned and moved his hand to tilt Dorian’s chin up, “Give us a kiss before you run off?”

The mage rolled his eyes. “I never run.” He leaned forward and gave the larger man a gentle peck on his scarred lips. 

“Aw, what was that?” Bull whined. “Come on, Dorian. You can do better than that!”

Dorian grinned. “Since you insist.” He grabbed the Bull’s shoulder and heaved himself up, pressing deeply into the other man’s mouth. The passion shocked Adaar almost to the point of openly gasping. Not that Dorian wasn’t a passionate man, but she’d never thought he’d be the type to eat another man’s face like that. 

The Bull groaned and wrapped his arms around the mage, pulling them flush against each other, Dorian still leading, both hands yanking on the base of both Bull’s massive horns.

Eventually they pulled apart, Dorian flushed as the Bull smiled warmly down at him. “Thanks.” 

Dorian released the other man’s head and gave a mocking bow. He turned on his heel and without hesitation, the Bull reached out and pinched him right on the arse. “Filthy brute,” Dorian muttered under his breath, smacking the Bull’s hand playfully. Bull just chuckled and leaned against the door frame, watching him practically glide down the stairs.

Once Dorian was out of earshot, Bull turned to face the crates, his arms crossed, “Enjoy the show, Boss?” he asked with a teasing smirk. Adaar flinched, banging her head on the box as she stood. 

“How’d you know!” Adaar hissed, rubbing her head gingerly with one hand while brushing the dust off her knees with the other. 

Bull gestured to her rack, “Not many folks around Skyhold with horned shadows.”

“You and fussy britches…” Sera said, coming to stand as well, grinning as if she had just been dealt an ace of dragons. “Oh this is _good_.”

Before she could go on, Bull held up his hand. “Actually, might wanna lay off the teasing, least for a bit with him.” 

“You expect me not to ream him for this?” Sera paused, looking him over. “Suspect you’ve been doin’ more than that,” she cackled.

“Give it another week. I’ll let you know.” Bull looked to Adaar, “Don’t worry, Boss. This won’t affect us working together. You know I compartmentalize.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Adaar said as she waved him off. “I’m just surprised you never told me.” 

Shrugging, the Bull leaned back against the wall. “That’s because I didn’t expect it to go on this long. I figured we’d get our aggression out, fuck around a bit, and that’d be that.”

“Wait…how long then?” Adaar asked with a raised brow. 

“Mmmm, about a month now,” Bull said, counting on his fingers. “Honestly, I’m not complaining. The sex is  _great_.” He grinned even as Sera made a face. “I figure if Dorian’s got a problem with it, he’ll just stop visiting.” 

“That wot you two call it?  _Visitin’?_ ”

“Well if visiting involves tying another person’s wrists to the headboard and sucking their brains out through their-”

“Ugh! No bits. Don’t need to know about his bits, your bits.” She gave an exaggerated shudder as the Bull laughed and clapped his hand on the elf’s shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Hey, you asked…”


	25. Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:  
> bull & dorian are already on a relationship when dorian gets to meet his father at redcliffe... so instead of the inquisitor staying, bull does.

Dorian liked to think he wasn’t a man of many regrets, especially at his age.

Sure, perhaps he had once pined for another life where he wasn’t a disappointment to his family, but since moving to the South, he indulged to the point where shame was practically a foreign term.

Until today…

“Another?” Bull asked with a raised brow, as the barmaid passed Dorian an ale. The mage took it with a flourish, sloshing some onto the floor and over their boots. “Whoa there, big guy. Take it easy.”

Dorian snorted and tipped his head back, drinking deeply even though he was well into his cups. “Says the man drinking acid wash.” He licked his lips and slammed the empty tankard back onto the counter, watching it spin slightly with the momentum. Cabot just rolled his eyes and dragged it back over the counter along with Dorian’s coin.

The Bull rubbed over the mage’s bare shoulder, his hand a warm comfort even in the warm hearth of the tavern. “How about I finish my drink and we go upstairs?” He tipped Dorian’s chin up, their eyes meeting as he added in a softer voice, “Let me make you feel good.” 

He stared at Bull, seeing nothing but understanding and that insufferable unnerving patience in the Qunari’s single green eye. “I don’t really feel like sex tonight,” he muttered, rubbing over his mustache which had become an untidy mess hours ago when they first left Redcliffe, Dorian seething and Bull worriedly dogging at his back. 

“Never said anything about sex,” Bull said, kissing his cheek. Dorian flinched at the intimate touch and he glanced around, as if Halward himself would materialize out of the walls of the Herald’s Rest. Before he could sink too deeply into his thoughts, Bull gently coaxed his attention back with another touch to his chin, “Hey…you’re good. You’re safe.” 

_Safe_

When was the last time he had felt safe? His mother’s garden, his father’s study, Felix’s room…

…in Bull’s arms. 

Dorian exhaled and closed his eyes. He gave a short nod and scooted his stool back away from the bar. Bull followed suit, leaving a generous tip on the counter for Cabot. With the tab taken care of, he wrapped his arm around the mage’s shoulders, leading him upstairs through the throng of tavern-goers.

Even in the chatter and clanking of the tavern, their feet landed hard on the stairs, a traditional tattoo that spoke of many evenings of slightly less than sober tumblings. Each step made his heart feel heavy even if his head felt light.

When they finally reached the landing to the Bull’s room, Dorian felt relieved. Here was a place where no one could touch him unless he wished it, where he could block out his father, his failures. 

His shame.

Bull closed the door behind them and began to help Dorian with his robes, kissing over the newly exposed skin of his neck and shoulders. Dorian closed his eyes, letting the other man undress and touch him with abandon. “You must think me terribly weak,” he murmured as Bull knelt to unbuckle his boots, gently tugging them off one at a time. 

“Why would I think that?” Bull rumbled below him.

Dorian huffed, “Today I was not my most…composed.” He swallowed thickly, moving his hands to work at the ties of his leathers. 

Bull stood, placing both their shoes by the door. “I thought you were pretty damn strong.” He stepped behind Dorian and placed his broad hands on the mage’s shoulders, rubbing into the tense muscle. “Not a lotta men could stand there and talk to someone who hurt them like that.”

“Heh…” Dorian smiled weakly, but leaned back into the touch. “Well it helped to have you there with me. If my father tried anything foolish, you would have snapped his neck.” 

“Only if you wanted me to,” Bull said, thumbs digging under Dorian’s shoulder blades. “Truthfully, I wanted to as soon as you mentioned the blood magic, but it’s your dad, your decision.”

Dorian frowned, biting his lip. “I hate him…I hate him and I love him. I don’t know how he could just…” he shook his head, closing his eyes. “Why couldn’t I have been  _enough?_ ”

Bull kissed him behind his ear, “You’re better than that.” He mouthed over the other side and then led him back to the bed, the bed that Dorian had become intimately familiar with over the last several months.

He allowed the Bull to lay him down, removing his pants, but leaving his silk smalls. The Qunari stripped down as well, laying next to him on his side. Bull’s fingers trailed up and down Dorian’s chest, rising and falling with each breath in the silence of the dim room. Dorian reached up and clasped his fingers around that hand, feeling the scars, the callouses. 

“Have I thanked you yet?” he asked in a quiet voice. 

Bull raised an eyebrow. “What for?”

Dorian shrugged, “This…” he gestured between them. “And…for coming with me to Redcliffe.” He squeezed Bull’s hand. “It helped. You helped.” 

The Qunari just smiled handsomely and Dorian felt his chest clench. “I’m glad you let me come.” He paused, “In more ways than one.” Bull winked and Dorian groaned softly, amused.

“You are an impossible brute,” he said as the Bull dragged him closer, their chests pressing together so that he could feel the larger man’s strong heart beat against his own. 

Maybe Dorian wasn’t enough for his family.

Maybe he never would be.

He squeezed the Bull’s fingers again and leaned in to claim the Qunari’s lips into a tender kiss. Bull responded with a low purr, smiling as Dorian’s free hand moved to curl around the base of a single horn. 

Maybe he could be enough for the Bull. 

Maybe he already was. 


	26. Apologies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:  
> "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it."

Iron Bull was used to apologizing. He was always bigger than the other kids and it took some time to learn his own strength. By the time his horns had begun to come in properly, Tama had him tending to the stray cats as well as the song birds that the priestesses raised.

 _“It takes strength and discipline to be gentle,”_  she had told him as he fed one of the squawking babies with a dropper.  _“It’s easy to be cruel, Imekari. Remember that.”_

He had always kept Tama’s lesson in the back of his mind, even when he was taken in for combat training years later, his size alone pegging him for military.

Ashkaari remembered when weapons of all sorts shoved into his hands by a stern Sten pointing him at a training dummy. He remembered even as he was forced to hit the same spot until it split in two.

Hissrad remembered when he broke the chains of an angry elf boy, ignoring the way the starving child clawed and kicked at his back. He didn’t let his blood boil even as the boy called him a monster oxman in broken Tevene, the Seheron village broken and bloodied in his wake.

The Iron Bull remembered when he allowed the Vint to bandage his eye, fighting the urge to wince even as alcohol was poured over the fresh wound. “You’re an idiot,” the man told him and the Bull just grinned.

Today he remembered as he tied the arms of a mage up to the elbow and sucked the man until he came hard enough to keen. His back arched off the bed in pleasure, straining hard enough against the ropes to leave bruises. 

“You ok?” he asked, checking in as he undid the rope. Dorian just smiled lazily, a blissed expression on his handsome face. Bull snorted. “I’ll take that as a ‘hell yeah’.” 

Dorian laughed and stretched his arms, sprawling out on the bed. Oh yeah, he was definitely going to bruise something fierce. “Not to stroke your already massive ego, but yes…” he leaned over and kissed the Qunari. 

Bull waggled his eyebrows. “Ego’s not the only thing that’s massive,”

“Oh for… _Fasta_   _vass_ , Bull.” Dorian smacked his arm. Bull just grinned and dragged the mage back over his lap. Dorian lay on top of him, his dark hair mussed beautifully as he spread himself out, covering as much of the Bull’s grey skin as he could. “Mmmm, so I suppose now it’s my turn to tend to you?” he asked, giving a sly grin as he reached down, stroking the underside of the Bull’s shaft, fingers teasing the edge of the crown. 

“If you want to,” Bull said with a grin. Oh sure, he was hard as a rock after that, but he wasn’t owed an orgasm just because he’d been given leave with someone else’s body. 

Dorian huffed, looking just a touch offended. “I’m not so selfish a lover that I would just use you for my own pleasure and leave,” he told the other man, shimming down the length of his body. 

“Yeah, but I’m not into pressuring people,” Bull clarified as he spread his legs, bending his knees just enough to let Dorian get a good grip on them. The mage snorted. 

“You don’t need to treat me like I’m a delicate flower, Bull,” he said as he wrapped his fingers around the Qunari, heating his hand with magic. “I know what I want and how I want it.”

There was a particular bite to those words that had the Bull frowning even as Dorian worked over him with talented hands, his cock throbbing against the mage’s staff-worn fingers. 

“Sorry…” Bull murmured, “I didn’t mean it like that, Dorian.”

The mage stopped in his ministrations and looked up at him, sighing softly. “No…I apologize. I know you are not trying to condescend me.” He ran a  hand back through his hair and pursed his lips. “I just…I would like you to trust me when I tell you it’s ok to be rougher, more demanding. That’s the point of the word isn’t it?” 

Bull nodded and laid back. “Yeah, but old habits. Just trying to keep everyone safe.” He saw Dorian raise an eyebrow, but he didn’t elaborate. This was the third time they’d come together like this and while he was enjoying getting to know the mage on a more intimate level, he wasn’t sure how he felt about going deeper than sex with a friend. 

“Bull, I have never known a man with more patience than you. I’ll admit that at times it is _infuriating,_ ” Dorian moved back up, holding onto Bull’s massive thighs. “I trust you to know yourself and your limits. Do me a favor and trust me to know when I’ve hit mine.” 

He leaned forward and gave the Qunari a small peck. “So, may I continue?” he asked with a coy expression, wiggling his fingers enticingly. 

“Well…when you put it like _that._..”


	27. Falling in Subspace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:  
> Bull gentling Dorian through a Sub drop? Pretty please?

The tears were pretty normal when they got rough like this, Dorian blindfolded with a spreader rod holding his shaking legs, bound arms pulled above his head by a hook. He kept going, delivering harsh smacks to the other man’s back and legs. Dorian whimpered, his cock red and leaking between his thighs, trembling after each hit. 

He was going to bruise so beautifully, Bull could already see where the rope had burned against his wrists and ankles. His back was red and angry, festering with blood beneath the skin. 

And the tears. He could see them soaking the silk of the blindfold and Bull resisted the urge to kiss over his eyes. After the scene maybe, but not right now. 

“Look, I made the little Magister  _cry_ ,” he teased, tracing over the most sensitive of the marks. Dorian flinched away and he laughed, “Don’t like that? Yeah, I got you good here, mage.” He gave a hard echoing smack to Dorian’s swollen ass and grinned as the man whined, his legs twisting. “You look about to  _pop_.” 

Bull leaned down and reached between Dorian’s legs, pulling at the plug held snugly inside of the other man. He gave some rough twists that had Dorian up on his toes and he shoved it back in all the way, giving the base a slap. “Keep that right there for me, Vint.”

He stepped in close and inhaled the smell of the other man’s sweat, feeling his heart pound in the pulse at his throat. Such a long beautiful column. He bit down hard enough to bruise and Dorian cried out, his cock throbbing. “Should I mark you up? Let everyone out there know what a desperate mess you are?” 

Dorian shivered and he chuckled, licking over the mark before repeating it on the opposite side, giving the mage a matching set. “ _Damn_ , anyone ever tell you that you look good in purple.” 

He trailed a thumbnail over the center and pulled back. Dorian panted, jerking slightly in his restraints, his fingers twisting above him. Suddenly there was a spark of flame and the rope was on fire. Bull barely had time to react before Dorian dropped, catching the mage before he crumpled to the floor. “Dorian!?” he quickly freed the man’s hands, stamping the fire out, ignoring the small burns to his fingers. “Shit…” he pulled off the blindfold and saw Dorian staring at the ceiling, his teary eyes ringed red, the kohl horribly smudged. 

“Dorian… _Dorian_ …” he stroked the man’s face and kissed him before undoing the ropes around the bar, removing the plug gingerly. He let the gear stay on the floor as he gently picked the mage up and laid him out on the bed. Dorian sniffled and closed his eyes, curling in on himself. “Kadan….can I touch you?” 

Dorian nodded slowly and Bull breathed out a small breath, stroking over the man’s back. “Did you want to stop completely? You didn’t say Katoh.” He wanted to make sure. Sometimes Dorian was overwhelmed and wanted some breathing room before continuing. He suspected this was not one of those times but he wasn’t going to chance anything.

“No…I’m done…” Dorian said, keeping his back to Bull. The Qunari nodded and stood, getting the basin they normally used in the mornings. He poured out some water and took a clean scrap of cloth.

“It’s a bit cold,” he warned as he began to wash the sweat from Dorian’s skin, avoiding the marks and bruises for now. Dorian let him inspect the burns and he rubbed cream into them, bandaging his wrists and fingers. “Kadan, can I get you anything?” He kissed Dorian’s cheek, “Cocoa? Tea? Cookies?” 

The mage was silent for a time before he said, “Tea would be acceptable.” Bull nodded and stroked over his hair, pulling the blanket up and over Dorian’s shoulders. 

Without magic, it took a little longer to heat the water, but soon enough he came back to the bed with a steaming cup of Dorian’s favorite brew. “I don’t want to spill, Kadan. Can you sit up for me?”

Reluctantly, Dorian sat, keeping the covers up high. He took the tea and Bull settled next to him, rubbing his back. “You’re ok, Dorian.”

“I know…I just…” Dorian sighed, staring into his cup. “I don’t know. We’ve been rougher before.” He took a sip and shuddered a bit. 

“That doesn’t mean shit. It was too rough for tonight.” Bull smiled at him. “I just wish you’d told me you were done. Could’ve avoided some of those burns.” 

Dorian lowered his head in shame. “I know. I couldn’t speak.” He took another sip, his hands curled around the base of the cup. “I’m sorry.” he muttered in a low voice.

The Bull felt his chest ache and he shook his head. “Don’t. I won’t take any apologies for this.” He nuzzled Dorian’s hair, “I should have read the situation better. I just hope that you aren’t too badly hurt.”

“No worse for wear than our usual,” Dorian said with a snort. “But nevertheless, the responsibility falls on me to tell you when it’s too much. I just couldn’t find the words.” He finally turned, meeting the Qunari’s eye. “You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to do. I just couldn’t quite take it.” 

He freed one hand from its grip around the cup and took Bull’s, interlacing their fingers. Bull brought their hands up to kiss over Dorian’s knuckles. “We’ll stay away from the hard stuff then. At least for a while.” He smiled which Dorian returned, albeit weakly. “Let me know if I can do anything to help.”

“Hold me?” Dorian asked, finishing his tea and placing the empty cup on the table. He settled back down into the plush pillows and let himself snuggle close to the Bull’s chest, 

The Bull nodded. “Yeah…I can do that.”


	28. Be Still my Sick Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:  
> Dorian taking care of a sick or injured Bull?

The smallest of wounds could lay a man low. 

Usually, the Bull was fastidious about treating his scrapes and scratches to prevent infection, but with the amount of injuries he sustained on the regular, one was bound to be missed.

The Quillback cut appeared to be healing correctly, albeit with more swelling than normal. That was until they removed the stitches to find green-yellow pus and rotten tissue hiding behind the outer layer of skin. 

Dorian watched as the Bull shivered, his body as hot as a furnace against the cool sheets. It had been just two days of watching the giant Qunari struggle through dehydration, nausea, fevers, and hallucinations. 

He was already drained.

“Drink this my dear.” Vivienne gestured for Dorian to lift the Qunari and he did so gingerly, laying him against the pillowed headboard. “It should help with the nausea and steady the fever.” She approached the bed with the small cup of tea, her heels clicking against the floorboards pointedly. Bull’s ears twitched at the familiar sound and he opened his eye. 

Vivienne gently tipped the cup’s contents to the small sliver of space between Bull’s cracked trembling lips and the Qunari swallowed. “Thank you…ma’am,” he said quietly, his eye closing as she took the cup away. 

She frowned and looked to her fellow mage. “You should get some sleep, Dorian. You do him and yourself no favors if you are too exhausted to stand.” 

Shaking his head, Dorian helped Bull lay back, placing a cooling cloth over his brow and drawing an ice glyph against the fabric. It pinched with the cold and the Bull shuddered, hands gripping the sheets tightly. The sight made Dorian’s chest ache.

Vivienne sighed heavily and shook her head. “If you insist on being foolish, at least send for a dinner plate.” She lifted her chin before turning back to Bull, gently stroking over his arm. “We’ll have those bandages changed out in the morning, Bull darling. Do try and get some rest.” She glanced to his stomach where they had cut out what remained of the infected tissue, blood staining the fabric a dull scarlet.

“Yes, ma’am,” he wheezed.

Once Vivienne had left, Dorian took the Bull’s hand in his. “She is right, Bull. You need to sleep…” he pressed his thumb into the pressure point of the Iron Bull’s wrist, rubbing firmly. 

The Qunari groaned and murmured, “You too…” Dorian smiled, but it didn’t reach past his lips.

“I’ll be fine, Amatus.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to the skin above Bull’s missing eye. “No need to worry about me, you big lummox.” 

Bull’s lips twitched with a small smile and Dorian relaxed a bit. “Can I get you anything?” he asked. The Bull shook his head but managed to turn his hand over, clasping Dorian’s fingers. His normally strong grip was so diminished here, a fraction of the strength he usually displayed.

But despite all of that, Bull was still Bull. “Nah…I’m good. Got a pretty hot nurse.”

“ _Pretty_  hot? That all?” Dorian teased. 

The Bull chuckled. “ _Gorgeous._  And willing to tend to my sick ass.” He loosened his already weakened grip and heaved a sigh. 

Dorian leaned over the sick bed and kissed his cheek. “Rest, Amatus. We can tend to your arse when you feel better.”

“That a promise?” Bull asked with a raised brow. “Cuz I’ll hold you to it.”

“When you’re healed, which will come far sooner if you rest.” He pulled the sheets over the Bull’s torso. 

“Well that’s no fun…” Bull muttered even as he relaxed into the bed as much as he could. Dorian just stroked his cheek, caressing the worn scars and the stubble that had accumulated over the past few days. Eventually the Qunari fell asleep, sweat running down the sides of his temples even with the rag. 

Dorian renewed the spell and sank back into his chair, rubbing his eyes. 

_No fun indeed._


	29. Fears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:  
> "I'm not scared of you."

Everything changed after Adamant. Having one’s fears and innermost thoughts laid bare tended to do that to a relationship, even a purely physical one.

Dorian found himself being gentle with the Bull, leaving the man’s arms free when they had sex, allowing Bull to manhandle him more (not that he disliked that). He wanted nothing more than for the Bull to feel strong and in control. 

Bull noticed, but didn’t comment at first. Eventually they did get to talking about it (after a few rounds of _gloriously_  lewd sex).

“I thought it was what  _you_  needed.” 

Laughing, Dorian shook his head. “Maybe it is in a way.” He cupped the side of the Qunari’s face, thumb stroking the scars just under his ruined eye. “I want you to feel safe with me.”

That had brought a rather puzzled look out of the Bull. It made Dorian’s chest clench and he hoped he had just insulted the larger man. It wasn’t that the Bull couldn’t defend himself. He was the largest and strongest warrior that Dorian had ever seen, but even the strongest men could fall prey to magic’s influence. That was something that he knew the Bull was keenly aware of. 

“Why wouldn’t I feel safe with you, Dorian?” Iron Bull asked, placing his own hand over the mage’s ringed fingers, his index idly tracing the bones in Dorian’s hands. 

_I’m a mage? I could easily be possessed and become the thing you fear most?_ _Tevinter at that, everything you hate about humanity._

Dorian swallowed hard and averted his gaze. “I just want to be certain is all.” He leaned in and kissed the Qunari, “You said that I would always be safe here in this room. I want you to feel the same.” 

The Bull smiled softly and he pulled Dorian into his naked lap. “You’re not a blood mage…or a big bad Magister. Hell, even if you were a Magister, you’re too soft for the worst of it.” 

Dorian snorted at the  _soft_  insinuation, but didn’t interrupt. Instead he just settled against the warm skin of his partner’s chest. Bull smiled and nuzzled the hair on the crown of his head. “I’m not afraid of you, Dorian. I wouldn’t keep my door open for you if I was.” 

“I’m not saying you have to be fearful, but your lack of caution-” 

This time it was the Bull’s turn to snort. “I was weary at first. Remember when we first met?” 

Indeed, the Bull had been very suspicious of him when he first joined and watched him closely, prodding him on their various trips into the wilderness with Adaar. Then-

-then the flirting came.

The rest was… _history_. 

“I’m rarely wrong in my assessment of people. I think I got you pegged right,” the Bull chuckled, his breath warm against Dorian’s scalp.

“Oh? And how do you peg me?”

“Well, we just need some-”

“Oh take this seriously, you brute!” Dorian scowled, turning to slap the Bull’s chest. The Qunari just grinned and kissed him.

“I think you’re a good man. Naive sometimes and annoying, but everyone has their shit. I don’t expect perfection.” He cupped the back of the mage’s head, thumb stroking the thin skin behind Dorian’s ear. “You’re powerful and dangerous, but not to me. Not to anyone in this castle. You’re passionate in what you love and what you hate. But you stand tall even against the things you hate.” He smiled warmly and it filled Dorian’s chest to see that look directed at him. “So yeah, nothing to fear from you, big guy.”

He paused and gave a mocking grin, “Well…outside of the occasional curtain burning.”

Dorian’s expression dropped, the moment immediately ruined. 

“ _Kaffas!_ It was  _one_  time!”


	30. Tinker Tailor Scholar Spy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:  
> Dorian and Bull are trying to figure out a new piece of Dwarven technology.

Dorian was _really_  cute when he was confused.

No…he was really adorable when he was trying (and failing) to understand something far beyond his realm of expertise. 

“Well, are you just going to sit there and stare, you lummox?!” Dorian scowled after a few minutes of trying to find a way to start the mechanism. The Bull just grinned and sauntered over to the mage. 

“Just enjoying the view. Sides, you didn’t look like you needed my help.” He patted the mage’s shoulder and Dorian shoved his hand off. 

“ _Kaffas_ , you’re useless.”

The Bull sank back as he watched the mage pace around the machine, trying to get it to start working. It looked like it was filled with stamps and dried out ink of some sort. The letters were all Dwarven runes and Varric was about as useless as they were when it came to translating it. Adaar had already sent for Dagna but it would be some time until she cleared her schedule to take a look at Skyhold’s newest acquisition. 

Dorian swore and came back with a hand covered in ink dust. Bull chuckled and pulled out his handkerchief, taking the mage by the wrist and cleaning it off. “What was this thing supposed to do anyway?” 

Scowling, Dorian gestured back to the machine with his clean hand and said, “A press, Bull. They are  _very_  rare.” 

“And it does what exactly?” he asked. He was sure he could figure it out if he stared at it long enough, but he preferred to let Dorian play the scholar. 

“It prints on paper. As much as you want.” Dorian took his hand back and frowned at the ink caught under his nailbeds. “It’s a mechanical marvel. A single person could make a  _hundred_  books in a day with one of these.” 

The Bull glanced back at the strange contraption. He could see the use in it. It would make sending missives far easier and print copies of any useful material far quicker than any scribe could do by hand. “Why aren’t there more of these?” he asked, curious now. 

“Because only the Shaperate is supposed to have them!”

Both men turned as Adaar walked in with Dagna. “Sorry to interrupt.” She paused, her eyes going wide. “Oh  _wooooow_ , this one is  _so_  old!” She ran forward and ran her hands over the metal work. “Which Thaig did it come from?” 

Adaar gave a helpless shrug, “We just…we found it in one of the underground caves in the Wastes.” 

Dagna whistled and began turning some of the gears. “Well, we’re gonna have to replace most of the mechanisms. It’s all clogged with sand and who  _knows_  what else.” 

Dorian bit his lip, “But you can fix it?” he asked, looking from her to the machine. 

The Dwarven women laughed and said, “Yeah, but it might take a while. I don’t have a lot of the tools for this kind of work. Might have to have some imported.” She put her hands on her hips, “It’s a good find. These never make it to the surface.”

The Bull grinned, “Gonna create some propaganda to send out en-mass, Boss?” 

Adaar snorted, “Probably…I’m sure we’ll find other uses for it as well.” She glanced to Dorian who was standing next to the machine now, talking with Dagna about the potential modifications and uses. “I think he’s more excited about it than I am.” 

Chuckling, Bull said, “Really? Whatever gave you that impression?” 


	31. Pierce My Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:  
> Dorian gets a Tattoo and some new piercings, and surpises bull with them.

The septum was hardly a surprise. 

Dorian had talked about getting his piercing there redone since before they moved in together so when the mage came back from his trip to the “library” with a fancy new ring in his nose, Bull just shrugged it off and said, “Lookin’ good, Kadan.” 

A few weeks later Dorian was sporting two studs in his ears. The Bull just smiled and told him to make sure he didn’t pick at the scabs. He didn’t want any blood on the sheets.

Those piercings all eventually healed and the Bull figured that Dorian was finished with body mods.

Then one day, Dorian came home quiet as a mouse. The Bull asked him if something had gone wrong at work or if he was feeling sick. Dorian just shrugged and murmured that he was perfectly fine. He kept his chin tucked to his chest and eyes averted which had the Bull’s internal alarms sounding like a fire bell. Still, he didn’t push it. 

To make matters worse, for the next week he avoided kissing Bull and even locked the Qunari out of the bathroom when he brushed his teeth in the morning. 

Bull was starting to get seriously worried…until finally he caught sight of a silver ball when Dorian laughed at one of his cheesy Vint sitcoms with Krem and Lace.

He didn’t mention it right then and there. He let it stew until they got home and were undressing for the night. 

“So…tongue piercing?” 

Dorian was halfway through pulling off his shirt when his words registered. The mage sighed and tossed his shirt on the bed, pouting, “It was  _supposed_  to be a surprise, you brute.” 

Bull chuckled and stepped in front of him, “Let me see, Kadan.” He gently gripped the mage’s chin, thumb idly stroking the side of his jaw. 

Sighing, Dorian opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue. The flesh around the piercing was still slightly swollen, but the simple silver ball stood out prominently against the dark pink of Dorian’s mouth.

Bull purred as he stared at it, “ _Vashedan_ …” 

Closing his mouth, Dorian smiled, “I thought you’d like it.” He ran a hand back through his hair and murmured, “When it’s healed, we should try it out.” 

Oh…well then he certainly was not going to turn that down. “Making me want to get some work done,” the Bull teased, kissing Dorian’s cheek. The mage squirmed a bit, but didn’t really make a proper escape attempt. 

“Mmmm, maybe we should look into it. I think a Jacob’s Ladder would look  _amazing_  on you,” he insisted, tugging the Qunari down by the horns.

Bull shrugged. “I’d have to think about that. Just can’t see putting needles in my dick.” 

“It’s not that bad!” Dorian scoffed.

“Kadan…how would you  _know?_ ”

“…”

“ _Fuck_ , Dorian.”


	32. Taking and Receiving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt:  
> Not only bull likes to talk during sex, but dorian is very fond of using all sorts of endearments, not just 'amatus' but 'carissime', 'caro', 'tesoro' etc. His favourite part about it is that Bull preens under the little words and blushes so prettily
> 
> I made this way kinkier than sweet...I'm sorry.

Bull had no problem whatsoever admitting that Dorian had a pretty sexy voice most of the time. It was all prim and proper with that cutting bite to hard vowels that he loved to turn into a wrecked whining mess as often as possible.

But then there were nights where Dorian was the controlling and dominant Magister, his robes slinky and loose while the kohl was harsher and more striking than usual. There was no whimpering from Dorian’s lips on those nights, only that authoritative command that made the Bull want to kneel as long as the mage willed.

Judging from the set up of the room, tonight was one of those evenings. Dorian made an imposing figure in front of the fire, practically naked for all that the silk covered. Bull closed the door behind him and waited, watching as the mage approached, taking his steps with the dignity of a king as he pulled a cat of nine out of his flowing sleeves. He smiled, devilishly handsome in the firelight as he brushed the leather tails across Bull’s cheek and down his throat. Bull swallowed and Dorian leaned in, his plush lips brushing over the Qunari’s stubbled chin, “I’m feeling like being an  _especially_  bad man, Bull.”

Fuck… _Fuck._

“Are you going to be obedient,  _caro mio?_ ” Dorian murmured, his voice smoother than the silk clinging to him. “Are you going to let me  _have_ you?”

Bull nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. He’d had some kinky lovers before, men and women who wanted some really raunchy shit in bed…but Dorian lit a goddamn  _fire_  in him with just a look. He couldn’t help but shiver as Dorian retracted the leather and took a step back. 

The mage smiled and curled a finger, beckoning him to follow.

Follow, the Bull did, taking in the arrangement on the bed. A leather blindfold and familiar bit were laid out as well as some leather bands already pulled to the headboard. “Close your eyes, Amatus and kneel on the bed. Arms crossed behind your back.” 

Bull knelt and closed his eyes, inhaling Dorian’s cologne as the mage tied the blindfold and secured his arms behind his back. He was panting and hard in his trousers before Dorian finished the last knot. 

“Mmmm, you look _so_  good like this,” Dorian said, trailing his fingers over Bull’s exposed chest. “Do you want to be good for me, Bull?”

Slowly, Bull nodded, but a sharp yank to the ropes around his arms had him grunting out,  _“Yes.”_

Dorian hummed under his breath and pressed Bull’s chest to the sheets, pulling his pants down only far enough to expose his ample backside. “Keep your knees bent and legs spread, caro. If it starts hurting, what do you say?”

_“Katoh.”_

Dorian kissed the base of his spine. “Perfect.” He pulled away, letting the Bull adjust a bit until his weight was comfortably settled. Then there were hands on him, firm and confident. Dorian was always the demanding sort, almost to the point of being selfish. That hadn’t been a problem for him, Bull liked giving as much as Dorian liked taking. “Count for me.”

Bull inhaled sharply as the first strike hit his backside. The leather was hard enough to sting, but Dorian’s hand was pretty well practiced at this now and it wasn’t enough to break through his arousal. “One,” he said, turning his head to the side as best he could. Dorian chuckled and there was another snap of the nines.  _“Two.”_

“It’s going to take a lot more to get you red,” Dorian told him, “How many should I give you, Amatus?” 

“As many as I can take,” Bull groaned, moving his hips. Dorian laughed.

“Let’s start with thirty and see where that takes us,” he said, his tone dark and promising. 

Koslun’s balls, he was so  _fucking_  hard. 

It felt like an hour had passed by the time they made it to thirty and Bull was sweating profusely as he felt Dorian’s hands running over the marks. “You should see your arse, Amatus. It’s like a ripe peach.” He felt Dorian plant a kiss to one of the more bruised marks and he groaned, his cock twitching in his pants. “How many more should I give you?”

Bull just grunted, rolling his hips as best he could in that position. There was a creak as the mage climbed onto the bed and on top of him. He could feel Dorian’s cock pressed up against his swollen ass and he shuddered. “I’m going to fuck your mouth, caro. You’re going to be good and  _take_  it.” 

Bull nodded and Dorian nibbled along the pointed tip of his ear. “I’m going to cum on your face. Would you like that?”

“Yes, please,” Bull groaned. Dorian kissed his cheek. 

“Please,  _ser_ ,” he corrected, biting harder into the lobe. It made Bull squirm and gasp.

“ _Please_  cum on my face, ser,” Bull panted as Dorian released his ear, those sinful hands skimming up his sides and teasing his hard nipples. “Please let me cum, ser.”

“All in good time, Amatus.” Dorian pulled back and moved around in front of Bull. He felt the tip of Dorian’s cock against his lips and he inhaled sharply, smelling mage’s arousal. “Open wide for me,” Dorian ordered. 

The Bull had no problem complying. 


	33. Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the LJ Kinkmeme.

Dorian had gotten really good with his knot-work over the past few weeks. Not that he had been terrible to begin with, but the patterns were now far more elaborate in design and held a great deal firmer than his earlier attempts.   
  
"You look like an absolute present, Iron Bull." The mage skimmed his fingers over Bull's bound arms held along the length of his spine. He gave the Qunari a devious grin and Bull just licked his lips as the mage moved to his calves. He pulled at the bindings against the Bull’s thighs and asked, "Not too tight?"  
  
Bull laughed. "Too loose. Come on, big guy." He purposefully flexed as he knelt on the tangled bed sheets, stretching the burgundy ropes. "Leave some marks why don't you? I can take it."   
  
"You do, very well I might add," Dorian teased as he kissed the Qunari on the cheek, mouthing over the scar at the corner of his lips. "But as you wish. Remember your word?" He snapped his fingers and the Bull let out a heady moan, feeling the bindings tighten significantly.   
  
"Fuck, Dorian...it's Katoh," he said as he arched his back, his half hard cock straining against the curve of his stomach.   
  
The mage just chuckled and smacked the Qunari's thigh before dimming the fire, creating dramatic shadows across the Bull's room. "Excellent.”  
  
Bull's eye darkened as the mage paced around him in only a pair of leather trousers, idly picking up a small switch from the top of the dresser. Dorian ran the length of it over his chest and down his stomach, briefly outlining the bulge of his cock as the fire crackled behind him.  
  
The Qunari felt his mouth water as Dorian slowly moved to stand behind him. A piece of fabric stretched over his single eye and he exhaled slowly, inhaling the jasmine cologne mixed with the mage's natural scent along Dorian's wrist. Once the blindfold was tied, there was a brief lull where the Bull could only hear his own shallow breathing and the steady drum of his heart. 

There was a telltale snap of leather and pain bloomed over his taunt shoulder. He inhaled, biting his lip as another blow landed on the opposite side. Bull flexed reflexively and the ropes tightened.   
  
Dorian moved closer, allowing the Bull to feel the heat of his skin. "Such a big powerful body," he said in Tevene, his accent lower and deeper than when he spoke Common. "And all tied up for me." He licked the Qunari's pointed earlobe and purred. Fuck, Dorian sounded so goddamn hot.  
  
More blows landed across the Qunari's back and ass, some harder and more forceful while others were almost teasingly quick and sharp. His cock hardened with each snap of Dorian's wrist and the Bull lowered his head, chin brushing his collar as he shuddered.   
  
Magic-warmed hands cupped his weeping cock, thumbs smearing the precum over the slit. "You Qunari crave subjugation," Dorian murmured, pinching the glans between his manicured fingers. "Without your Qun, you'll bow to anyone who offers you a collar, a place to kneel. Isn't that right, slave?"   
  
When Bull didn't answer right away, Dorian's grip became harder, just past the point of playful. It made Bull throb with need. "Isn't that right?" Dorian repeated.  
  
The Bull groaned and nodded, but it only earned him another squeeze. "Say it!" Dorian hissed, his Tevene clipped and harsh in the warrior's ears.  
  
"Yes, master..." he ground out between clenched teeth. Dorian slowly released his hold on his dick and brought his slick fingers up to Bull's mouth. Without hesitation, the Qunari licked his own pre-spend off the mage's ringed fingers.   
  
There was a smack to his ass and then Dorian was forcing him onto his shoulders, chin up on the pillows with his ass in the air. Moving rather fast, but Dorian was always pretty impatient. "Now be a good slave and be still. I'll be back."  
  
Bull blinked behind the blindfold and tried to turn his head. Dorian's footsteps faded and there was the distinctive opening and shutting of the door. But there was no way that actually happened. Dorian never dragged things out like this. He always rushed like it was their last night....not that Bull minded.   
  
Silence slowly filled the room. A distinctly empty silence. No crackle of the fire, no crows cawing at each other through the hole in the roof, no tavern noise below.  
  
Bull found himself shivering in the sudden chill. When had Dorian doused the fire? Had he done it before they started or when he left? How had he not noticed? But then there was the tavern. How could it be so quiet? It was never this silent, especially after payroll.  
  
His chest tightened and his breaths turning shallow as he tried to pull at the knots. How long had he been kneeling here? Where was Dorian?   
  
...He should have come back by now.

 _"Hissrad, do you remember why you came to us?" the Besrathari asked him, tilting his chin so he would meet her cool brown eyes. Hissrad nodded._  
  
_"I'm broken and I need to be fixed," he told her softly as she pushed him down to kneel on the metal floor. He didn't struggle against her. There was no point._  
  
_The reeducators would either fix him or destroy what remained. A broken sword was a thousand nails waiting to become and the Ben-Hassrath had no need of either._  
  
_She smiled at him but the expression did not meet her eyes._  
  
_"You are not the first, Hissrad. Seheron has broken many with its constant chaos..." She gestured to the men behind her who stepped forward, chaining his arms and legs. He did not struggle, allowing them to pin him to the opposite wall. "I prescribe to you peace." She said simply as she took the only torch lighting the confinement chamber. "The quiet will quell your doubts and leave nothing but the Qun."_  
  
_The metal door shut, locking him in solid dark-_  
 _-and silence._  
  
"Bull?"   
  
The blindfold was lifted from his eye and he groaned, the firelight burning far too bright as Dorian's face came into view. The mage was halfway done on untying his arms, grey eyes wide with concern. "Bull, what happened?" he asked, tossing the ropes to the floor.   
  
The Qunari just shook and lowered his gaze. He clenched his fists impotently between his legs and murmured, "I...I don't know."  
  
"You were shouting," Dorian said as he cut the line holding his legs together. He tossed that strand down as well, rubbing circulation back into the Qunari's limbs.   
  
"How long were you gone?" Bull asked, swiping a hand over his sweaty face.   
  
Dorian frowned and said, "Only a few minutes." He reached up to touch the Bull's cheek, but Bull sat up and stood, walking to the dresser where a washbowl was set for the next morning.   
  
Splashing some of the cool water in his face, Bull furiously rubbed over his only good eye, his ears twitching as all the sound seemed to rush back to him.  
  
The fire crackling away merrily in the grate.  
Telltale canking and chatter of the tavern below.  
Red's crows fluttering between the surrounding trees.   
  
Letting out a long sigh, he turned back to Dorian who was sitting on the bed, his face pulled into a deep concerned frown. Slowly, Bull made his way back over, settling next to the other man. "Sorry...I got...got too deep into my head."   
  
"I'm the one who should be apologizing, Bull. I should have asked if you were alright." Dorian reached out to touch him again and this time the Bull let him, allowing the mage to stroke his shoulders. "I just wanted to try and prolong the night. Tease more than I usually do." He shook his head, "May I ask what-"  
  
"No," Bull said, cutting him off. Dorian pursed his full lips and then nodded.   
  
"Fair enough," he murmured, "Is there anything I can do for you since I've made a rather terrible mess of the evening...?" As he spoke he thumbed gently over Bull's clavicle. 

The Qunari relaxed a bit into Dorian's touch. Slowly taking Dorian's hands, he kissed over the palm and the pads of his fingers. "Think you can stick around for the night?" he asked. He knew it was a pretty forward demand. Dorian never stayed the night, always running to the library after every encounter. Still...the last thing he wanted right now was to spend the night in an empty bed.  
  
Dorian exhaled and glanced between the ropes on the floor and back to the Bull. "I suppose I can do that much. I just hope you realize that this will not under any circumstances become habit."   
  
Pulling back the covers, Dorian shuffled underneath, rearranging the pillows to his liking (which meant stealing most of the ones from Bull's side). The Bull just nodded and leaned over, stroking Dorian's hair. "Yeah I know...reputation and all that." He kissed the mage's brow and inhaled the smell of his hair, his cologne, his sweat.  
  
"I'll save my complaints for the morrow," Dorian whispered as he raised a hand, dimming the fire until it was little more than glowing embers in the grate.   
  
Bull smiled softly and wrapped an arm around the smaller man's chest, listening to the other man breathe; an anchor in the quiet night.


End file.
